When Dreams Become Nightmares
by Izabella
Summary: COMPLETED. Sydney is a junior at UCLA working her way up in SD6. When she falls in love with Vaughn, she little suspects that he too is leading a double life, one that will require him to make a difficult choice between love and loyalty to his country.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Sydney is a junior at UCLA and is just completing her training at SD-6. Vaughn is a graduate student at UCLA, and he has a secret whose telling could mean life or death for Sydney.**

**This is my first Alias fanfic. I recently became obsessed with the show. You see, I'm home from college for the summer, recently broke up with my boyfriend, and as a result have no social life. So what do I do? I rent alias from blockbuster! A sad existence, I know. But what can ya do. Sydney's life is much more exciting than mine. ANYWAY...I've pretty much got the plot worked out for this thing. It's gonna be CRAZYYY. Please read & review. Be brutally honest. **

** Oh yeah, if a character in any way resembles someone from JJ's Alias, then it is. Enjoy!

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Sydney Bristow thought her life couldn't be going much better. She was living the dream. She was young, smart, beautiful, and had the whole world fooled. And she knew how to use a gun.

"Aren't you ever afraid it's all just going to come crashing down one day?" she asked her roommate Francie.

"Huh?" Francie grumbled, stretching and yawning. It was five thirty in the morning. To this day Francie had never been able to understand why her roommate insisted on keeping such bizarre hours. College students weren't supposed to come to life until eleven at the earliest. But Sydney was always up at five am sharp, even if she'd been out partying 'til four the night before.

"I mean it can't always be this perfect, you know?"

"Somehow the 'perfection' of being woken up by your chatty roommate at five thirty on a Saturday morning is escaping me right now, Syd."

"No, seriously, think about it. We have everything going for us. But how long can it last, realistically? I just have this feeling that it's all gonna come crashing down any day now."

Francie sensed that this was an issue her friend wanted to discuss in earnest. So she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, and tried to take an active part in the conversation.

"Syd, it's silly to talk that way," she yawned. "Plenty of people live their whole lives without any serious tragedy striking them. Plus, it's not as if your life has been a total dream up to this point. I mean – "

"I know, I know, my mom and Danny. But right _now_ it just seems so perfect. It frightens me…I know it has to end sometime."

"Girl, did you meet someone at that dance party last night?"

Sydney rolled her eyes, but Francie noticed her tightening her lips as she tried to smother an involuntary smile. "_No_."

"Uh huh."

"Even if I did, what I'm talking about has nothing to do with guys."

"Of course."

Sydney sighed. "I guess there's no point hiding anything from you."

"Hon, from the minute you walked in the door last night I knew you met a guy. Your face hasn't glowed like that since…well, you know."

Sydney looked down for a moment, but in a second she was smiling widely again as she pressed her foot against the bed post to stretch her hamstring.

"Well, I better be going," she said, glancing down at her watch.

"What!" Francie exclaimed. "Don't you dare move an inch before you tell me every detail about this new man. I mean it Syd."

Sydney smiled, blushing lightly. "I've really gotta go – I want to get my run in before it gets too hot. How 'bout we go to breakfast when I get back? I'll tell you everything then."

The girls agreed to meet at the cafeteria at 7:30, though how she ever let herself become the best friend of a girl who would force her to be showered and alert at such an ungodly hour on a weekend was beyond Francie.

"All right," said Francie once they were comfortably seated with their food. "Spill it."

Sydney tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and thought back to the events of the preceding night.

* * *

She had reluctantly agreed to go to the dance party with her coworker Noah Hicks, despite being brutally tired from a full day of classes and SD-6 training. Noah was in her training class, and they were both juniors at UCLA. He was really the only person she had warmed to at SD-6 – everyone else seemed so cold and distant. She was eager to solidify their friendship outside of work. So when he called her last night asking her to hang out, she was thrilled. Though she would have preferred to watch a movie or go for a walk, Noah insisted on the dance party. His frat was throwing it. She threw on a sexy tank top and skirt and headed out to join him.

The party itself was obnoxious. If she had gotten more than two hours of sleep the night before, she might have been able to enjoy it, but as it was, the blaring music and sweaty, groping frat boys all around her made her feel nauseated. To make matters worse, Noah was completely wasted after about a half hour. Ordinarily, Sydney might have just laughed at him or joined in the fun herself, but her head was aching and Noah was beginning to get crude, so when he got up to pee for about the twelfth time in the last hour, she escaped onto the balcony to cool off for a minute.

She wasn't quite sure how it happened. One minute she was standing alone, resting her elbows on the rail of the balcony, and the next someone had come up behind her and wrapped his arms fiercely around her. His name was Skyler Banks. He was one of those cocky rich boys who had only gotten into the college because of his father's hefty alumni donations. But most people overlooked that. He had achieved his fame on campus for being a ladies-man. There had been a period during the last year when he tried to make Sydney one of his conquests – he had even sworn to her that he'd change his ways completely and never hit on another girl if she'd go out with him – but she wasn't tempted for a second. She had Danny back then.

"I've missed you, Sydney Bristow," he said. His breath reeked of beer. "But I haven't missed the _fantasies_."

"Get off me," she muttered, attempting to wrestle her way out of his grip.

"You know what your problem is, Bristow? You're too cold. You just need to warm up a little bit," he said, breathing heavily on her neck, and attempting to slide his hands under her shirt.

"I said _get off of me_." She squirmed away for a second but he was surprisingly forceful in his drunkenness. He grabbed her and pressed her up against the rail.

"Unfortunately, Bristow, I've never heard those words from a woman before. I'm not sure exactly what they mean."

"Let me show you," said a young man who had just appeared on the scene. Sydney had never seen him before. But whatever he had planned on showing Skyler, he didn't have a chance, for at that instant, Sydney threw her head back and then smacked it into Skyler's forehead. He was stunned – she took advantage of that moment to free herself from his grip, at which point she punched him once in the face and then promptly kicked him in the balls. She exhaled contentedly as Skyler slumped to the ground with a high pitched squeal.

"Wow," said the stranger with surprise. Sydney looked down at the ground confusedly. Had it been wise to display her fighting skills in public? Sydney had no improper pride, but she knew that the average girl definitely wouldn't have been able to floor a big guy like Skyler Banks the way she just had. Suppose someone began to suspect the truth about her?

_Stop being ridiculous_, she told herself. _Being able to defend yourself against a drunk frat boy in no way correlates to being a spy for a black opps division of the CIA. Calm down._

She looked up at the man who was still gazing at her and smiled shyly.

"I'm Sydney," she said at last, holding out her hand. He shook it eagerly.

"I'm Vaughn. Michael Vaughn. You should know, Sydney, I was about to rescue you just then."

"You were, were you?"

"Yes, I was," he said, grinning at her. "But as much as I would have liked to be your knight in shining armor, I have to admit it's probably better you took care of him on your own. I mean I'm not exactly a shrimp, but compared to Skyler Banks…he's gotta be 6'7" at least. My guts would probably be splattered across the pavement here if I'd tried to fight him."

Sydney giggled.

"How the hell did you do it?" he asked her.

"I've been taking some self defense classes lately," she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, I guess you got your money's worth."

Sydney shrugged, thinking of a way to change the subject.

"So, you go to school here?" she said lamely. The only way guys could get into frat parties – unless you were really sneaky – was to be a student at the university. You had to show your student ID before they'd let you in. Obviously Vaughn was a student.

"Yeah. I'm a grad student…trying to get my master's in French education."

"Trying?"

"Well, I also work full time at a bank. So it's hard fitting this in. But it's where my heart is, so I'm determined to see it through."

Sydney was stunned at how similar their lives were…except the one tiny detail that the "bank" she worked for was actually SD-6.

"Ah, I know all about that," she said.

"You do?"

"Ever since…well, it's always been my dream to be an English professor. But I actually work for a bank too, and lately it's been really hard fitting school into my schedule."

"What made you want to be an English professor?" Vaughn asked.

Sydney bit her lip and looked up at Vaughn warily. Normally she felt threatened when people tried to pry into her personal life. But as his green eyes smiled down on her, she felt a strange security. Something about him made her incapable of hiding her emotions. Sydney could live a double life with her best friend Francie, lying to her about potentially life-altering events ten times a day, but with this man, a virtual stranger, she found herself involuntarily opening up.

"My mother was an English professor," she said quietly. "She died when I was six."

"My father died when I was a kid too," Vaughn said solemnly. "It happened years ago, but I still think about him all the time. I'm constantly wondering if he'd approve of the choices I've made…the kind of man I've become."

Sydney nodded her head knowingly.

"I'm sure your mother would be proud of you, Sydney," Vaughn said sincerely.

"That's very reassuring," Sydney said, with a hint of good-humored sarcasm in her voice, "particularly from someone who's known me all of…what is it, five minutes?"

Vaughn looked down at his watch, his hand trembling slightly when he saw that it had stopped.

"I just have a sense about these things," he said after a moment. Then, more lightly, "But I could always be wrong. She might have been mildly horrified at the way you practically castrated poor Skyler over there."

Sydney laughed, and then looked up curiously as a tall, cheerful looking man walked over to them.

"Aw, look at you two, talking about castration. How romantic," he said.

Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Sydney, this is Eric Weiss. Weiss, Sydney. Weiss works with me. And I also have the misfortune of sharing my apartment with him."

"Nice to meet you," said Sydney, holding out her hand. He shook it eagerly.

"Well, I'm sorry to break up the party," Weiss said mournfully, "but Vaughn, we've gotta roll." He raised his eyebrows significantly.

Vaughn chose to ignore the hint. "That's okay man, I think I'll hang out here with Sydney awhile longer. You go on home – I'll see you later."

"But I don't have a car, Michael, I came with you."

"Then take these, _Eric_," said Vaughn, tossing Weiss his car keys.

"I'd love to take them, Michael, but I can't drive a stick."

"Then learn," Vaughn said, gritting his teeth.

Until this point, Sydney had stood off to the side quietly observing them. But it was becoming increasingly evident to her that Weiss wanted to talk to Vaughn alone, for whatever reason.

"Vaughn," she said, "Just go with him. It's fine, really – I was gonna leave the party soon anyway. It was really nice to meet you two."

Without giving Vaughn chance to argue, she smiled sweetly and headed back to her apartment. She figured Noah was probably too drunk to miss her.

* * *

Sydney told Francie pretty much everything that happened at the party, omitting, of course, any references to hers or Noah's affiliation with SD-6. Anyone who happened to be watching the scene would never have guessed that this giddy schoolgirl who babbled on so excitedly about her new crush was secretly a highly trained spy who could knock out half the students in the cafeteria single-handedly if she wanted.

"So that's it?" Francie asked, somewhat bewildered. "No raunchy sex, no kissing, no nothing? Just a five minute conversation, and you're glowing like it's Christmas morning? Good God, girl, Michael Vaughn must be quite a man."

"I don't know," Sydney said. "I just don't know. There was something about him, Francie – I can't put my finger on it. He's not like other guys."

"And you didn't get his number?"

"Well I left so abruptly at the end – I mean I don't know what was going on with his friend Weiss, but he really seemed to need to talk to Vaughn, and I didn't want to interfere with that. Anyway, if he likes me enough, he can look me up in the directory."

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**More coming soon (probably)! Tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the encouraging reviews everyone :) Keep 'em coming...

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_Last night after Sydney left…_

"Goddamnit, Weiss, what is your problem?" Vaughn shouted.

"_My_ problem! Vaughn, do I honestly need to tell you what the problem is?"

"Listen, I've rethought everything. I have an idea that I think will work better than Kendall's plan."

"That's very comforting, but do I need to remind you that when Kendall hears you completely violated protocol, you might not even have a part in this 'plan' – or in the CIA – ever again?"

Vaughn nodded, biting his lip slightly. "Yeah. That's why I'm gonna need you to back me up on this."

Weiss stared at Vaughn for a moment in disbelief. Then he slammed his hand against the wall angrily. Then he sighed. "What did you have in mind?"

Vaughn knew he had won the battle.

"We get to know her. We gain her trust. Maybe she'll tell us everything freely. Maybe we won't have to bring her in."

"You know that's out of the question. We're gonna have to bring her in sometime."

"Maybe, maybe not. At least not now. We're not even sure she's the right girl."

"Vaughn…"

"If we bring her in, it will ruin her life. It's just not right."

"Vaughn, I hardly need to be the one to break it to you that in a job like ours, the laws of right and wrong frequently become muddled."

"Not this time. Not now."

"Wow," said Weiss, patting his friend on the back. "You've become a regular hero. I'm sure the lovely Alice would be proud," he added slyly.

Vaughn looked up abruptly.

"You know, Alice, your girlfriend…" Weiss continued. "The one with the short blonde hair…"

"What are you getting at?"

"Look, Sydney's hot. There's no denying it. And, from what I gleaned from your conversation over the radio, she seems to have a stellar personality to boot. A sweet, funny girl. But be careful. Not only are you already in a relationship, but Sydney Bristow is the enemy."

* * *

_A Few Nights Later…_

Sydney, Francie, and Will were all lying in a heap on the couch in the girls' apartment.

"Oh my God," Francie moaned. "I've never eaten so much in my life. I'm going to die."

"Seriously," Sydney agreed. "I'm doubling my run tomorrow and every day from now on. Not that it will help. I think I gained twenty pounds tonight."

"Oh shut up," said Francie, eyeing her friend's perfect figure jealously. "Don't even start on the whole 'I'm so fat' thing. You're the most fit person I ever saw. _Me_ on the other hand," she said, pinching her stomach, "look at that! I have love handles!"

"No you don't, retard," Sydney insisted. "Ugh, look at my thighs! They're taking over the universe, one inch at a time."

"Ok, rhino-thighs and handles-o'love, can we cut the fat crap out? I'm gonna get the ice cream, who wants some?" Will asked.

"Good God, Will, how can you possibly think of eating more?" Francie exclaimed. "We just ate like fifty cookies and twelve pounds of steak. Yeah, I'll have some."

Sydney groaned. "Why not. The damage is already done," she said mournfully. "Bring me the carton of coffee. Might as well finish it off."

Will got up, rubbing his stomach, and stumbled over to the freezer to get the ice cream. Just then the doorbell rang. The three friends looked at each other confusedly.

"Who could that be?" Francie asked. "We're all here. I swear to God, if it's Charlie asking for a second chance – someone better hold me back or else I'm likely to stab him with my steak knife."

"Yeah, I think I'll get it," Sydney said, patting Francie on the head. She got up sluggishly and made her way to the door, oblivious to the fact that she was still wearing an apron and her face and clothes were splattered with cookie dough.

She opened the door and found herself face to face with Michael Vaughn.

"Hi Sydney," he said, trying not to laugh at her appearance. "Uh…I hope this isn't a bad time…"

Sydney just stared. Michael Vaughn was at her apartment. Michael Vaughn was at _her_ apartment. He had looked her up. He wanted to see her again! He was standing there in front of her, waiting for her to ask him in. _So ask him in, idiot_.

"Come on in. My friends and I were just eating dessert. Do you want some ice cream or cookies?" she asked, shutting the door behind them.

"No cookies left," Will said apologetically.

"WILL! YOU DID _NOT_ EAT THE LAST COOKIE!" Francie cried. "Oh my God, how you manage to keep under 500 pounds is the world's greatest mystery. Oh, hi there," she said, holding out her hand to Vaughn. "I'm Francie. Sorry we can't offer you cookies. But we have some delicious strawberry ice cream, and coffee too, if you can get Sydney to share it."

Vaughn couldn't help laughing now. "That's alright – I can't stay long. I'm sorry to drop in like this, but your number wasn't listed in the UCLA directory."

"Oh, sorry about that," Sydney said. "We actually don't have a phone line. We just use our cells."

"That explains it. Anyway, I was just wondering if…well, I have some tickets to the hockey game tomorrow night…me and some friends are going…if you wanted to tag along, that would be great. You can bring your friends too."

Sydney's heart was racing. She loved Francie and Will to death, but she was always excited at the prospect of a new friend. And after Noah's revolting behavior last night, she wasn't sure she wanted _him_ as a friend anymore. But Michael Vaughn seemed like a decent guy. _Decent guy_? Said the voice in her head sarcastically. _He's **gorgeous**. And so far shows no signs of being a conceited asshole. Definite friendship potential here._

"Sure, I'd love to," she replied, beaming at him. "Do you guys have any plans?" she asked Will and Francie.

"Aw man, I'd love to go, but I've got a huge exam the next day that I'll need to spend all night cramming for," Francie said.

"I'm free," said Will. Vaughn eyed him skeptically. He knew all about Will Tippin's life from reading files about him at the CIA, but he was not sure exactly how close Will was with Sydney.

"Great. Well, I guess I better get going," said Vaughn. "See you guys tomorrow night."

Sydney longed to ask him to stay and hang out with them for a bit. But -- though she wouldn't hesitate a moment to put a bullet through a bad guy's head, or to take a bullet herself if it meant serving her country -- when it came to making a new acquaintance, particularly with men, she was shy and insecure. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't so bad though; she'd see him tomorrow...

"Michael, you should stay," said Francie suddenly. Sydney made a mental note to spend extra cash on Francie's birthday present that year. "We were just gonna play Monopoly, but it's totally better with four people than three."

"I don't know…" said Vaughn. For some reason, he wanted to stay there and play Monopoly more than he'd wanted anything in ages. But Weiss's warning rung clear in his ears. _Not only are you already in a relationship, but Sydney Bristow is the enemy. _

"If you stay, I'll put another batch of cookies in the oven," Sydney said, smiling at him.

If Weiss could just see the way those adorable dimples spread across Sydney Bristow's face when she smiled, Vaughn was sure he'd understand his inability to leave her apartment. And since when did "enemies" bake their opponents homemade chocolate chip cookies?


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again for all the reviews. Alatariel97: thanks for reading/reviewing my other stories. Sorry I've been so lazy about updating them...but your review was very encouraging. I'll get around to updating them some time or another I promise : )

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Chapter 3**

It was with a heavy heart that Sydney entered the bustling office of SD-6 the following morning after English class. Noah had left her about six messages on her cell phone since the night of the party and she hadn't called him back once. Now she would have to see him face to face and explain her behavior.

What was the real reason for her avoidance of him, she wondered? He wasn't _that_ bad at the frat party. He acted just like any typical college boy unwinding after a rough week – and was loads more polite than that nasty Skyler Banks – not that that said much. When she thought hard about it, she had to confess she was avoiding him because her intentions toward him had changed. She hadn't been able to admit it before, but deep down inside she had been thinking of him as a replacement for Danny. Someone to depend on, to comfort and be comforted by, but in a romantic way. A boyfriend. Only with Noah, she'd be able to be completely honest. That was the main attraction. No more secrets, no more leading a double life. Could anything be better than that?

_Yes_, said the annoying voice in her head. _True love. Boys who don't change into crass perverts when they're filthy drunk. Boys who don't get filthy drunk_.

She would just have to let Noah know as nicely as possible that she wasn't interested in him in that way anymore. Not that she had ever admitted to being interested in him that way in the first place – although it had been implied a million times a day since they began working together. Sydney didn't know it, but several of her coworkers at SD-6 had actually made bets on how long it would take before the two of them finally got together. That Sydney and Noah's relationship was teasing the line between friends and lovers was no secret at SD-6. Neither was pretty much anything else about the agents' lives.

* * *

"Where do we stand on Case 147?" came the cold voice of Arvin Sloane.

There were two other men in the room. One of them picked up a remote and flicked a switch. A large screen unfolded from the ceiling.

"A traffic camera recorded this footage outside Agent Bristow's apartment last night," said the man.

He flicked another switch and the screen lit up, showing a black car pulling up to the curb across from Sydney's apartment. Michael Vaughn stepped out of it, walked up to Sydney's apartment with a spring in his step, and knocked on the door. Despite the fuzzy footage, it was quite clear that when Sydney Bristow opened the door and saw who was standing before her, she was not at all displeased. She smiled radiantly at him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Vaughn's hand grazed the curve of her back as he followed her into the apartment. The man flicked the switch and the screen went blank.

"How long was he there?" Sloane asked.

"About four hours," the man replied.

"I see. You may leave now."

The man nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Sloane sat back in his chair, staring blankly before him for a few minutes. Then he sighed and lifted his eyes to meet the gaze of the other man in the room.

"I think you know what this means, Jack," he said finally.

"Yes."

"Jack, I have great confidence in you. You've never let me down. But, considering the nature of this case – "

"I'll be fine. Though Sydney is my daughter, I believe you know where my true loyalties lie. I will stand behind any decision you make, so long as it is made in the interest of this agency," Jack said flatly.

"That is comforting," said Sloane, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Nevertheless, Sydney is important to me. She's important to SD-6. Therefore, I am willing to consider bending the rules slightly."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Sydney Bristow is our best field agent. She may still be of use to us, particularly in acquiring the Rambaldi artifact. Nevertheless, the situation must be handled with the utmost precaution. We cannot afford to have her relaying information about SD-6 to the CIA. I am willing to entertain the possibility that her sudden friendship with Michael Vaughn is purely coincidence on both sides. They both attend the same university; stranger things have happened. But she must be watched with constant vigilance. One slip-up, and…"

"I'll take care of it," said Jack.

* * *

Sydney was working hard at the firing range when Noah Hicks entered the room. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, but ignored him, pretending to be focusing intently on her shooting. He walked slowly over to her until he was standing right beside her. He watched her shoot for a few minutes in silence.

"Syd, are you gonna tell me what's up, or will I have to beat it out of you in training later today?" he asked her when she paused to reload her gun.

"Beat it out of me?" she laughed. "Yeah right. You know I can kick your ass."

"Yeah, that's sort of why I was hoping you'd just tell me freely what's going on."

She looked up at him, biting her lip, and took a deep breath.

"Ok. What I'm about to say is gonna be awkward for us both."

"Syd, you know you can tell me anything," Noah said.

Sydney nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I like you, Noah. I really do. But lately – and I don't think it takes the skills of a highly trained spy to pick up on this – our 'friendship,' or whatever it is, has become…more than professional. I think."

_Could you **be** anymore vague? _She asked herself angrily.

Noah's face brightened. "I know what you mean, Syd, and let me just say, I'm so happy. I really like you…I mean _really_…and I'm so glad we're finally taking our relationship to the next level."

"I'm not," Sydney said quietly.

Noah took a step back and looked at Sydney confusedly. If there was one thing Sydney Bristow couldn't bear, it was hurting someone she cared about. And she did care about Noah, on some level – just not the way he wanted her to care about him.

"I'm so sorry," she said, reaching out and gently touching his arm. "I do care about you, Noah, and I hope we can still be good friends. I just thought – seeing as we work together – it would be best for me to tell you right now, just so there's no misunderstanding between us."

"I see," he said after a few moments. Then, with a forced smile, "Yeah, I'd like to be friends too. I'll take what I can get."

Sydney smiled at him. "Now how 'bout that beating we talked about? I've got an hour before I have to head back to campus."

"You're on."

* * *

If Michael Vaughn hadn't been so busy daydreaming about the hockey game that night, he might have noticed when he climbed into his car to drive home that a man was already sitting in the back seat of it. As he reached to put the key in the ignition, the man in the back seat leaned forward and put a gun up to Vaughn's head.

"Drop the keys and put your hands up," he said quickly. Vaughn obeyed.

"Listen very carefully," said the man. "I don't know what the hell you think you're playing at, but this 'friendship' you're developing with Sydney Bristow could very easily cost her her life."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"SD-6 cameras have footage of you meeting with Sydney Bristow two separate times. My intel has confirmed that she will be attending a hockey game with you and some friends later this evening. Now, Agent Vaughn, I realize you may not be very far past puberty, but even you must be aware that your relationship with Ms. Bristow has and will continue to raise the suspicions of higher ranking officials within SD-6. It is only a matter of time before those suspicions lead to her elimination, which, considering the CIA's recent discovery about her, would be less than desirable."

"How do you know about that?" Vaughn asked incredulously.

"That is not your concern. What I need to know is why you didn't bring Sydney into the CIA directly as you were ordered."

"That's none of your business," Vaughn said quickly. Jack raised the gun and slammed it into the side of Vaughn's head. Vaughn suppressed a groan as he felt a trickle of blood running down his face.

"You will tell me what I need to know, Agent Vaughn."

"How do I know you won't use that information to hurt Sydney?" Vaughn asked, breathing heavily.

"You don't. But what you _do_ know is that if you don't tell me everything, both you and Sydney Bristow will be killed within the hour. I can promise you that."

Something about the intensity of man's voice gave Vaughn the feeling that this was not an idle threat.

"Alright," he said. "I was ordered to capture Sydney while she was at a frat party a few nights ago and take her into custody at the CIA. They didn't tell me much about why they wanted to hold her, but I did some poking around and found out. It has to do with some ridiculous prophecy by a man named Milo Rambaldi who lived hundreds of years ago. But I guess you already knew about that…"

"Tell me everything. What I know is not your concern."

Vaughn rolled his eyes, but when the man prodded him in the head with the gun again he decided to keep going.

"Rambaldi prophesied that a certain woman would render utter desolation onto mankind, or something. The prophecy included a portrait of the woman, and various other clues as to who she would be. The woman in the portrait looks exactly like Sydney Bristow, and she fulfills all the other clues we've been able to decipher so far."

"So why haven't you done your duty to your country and handed her over?" the man asked grimly.

"I did intend to. But I knew that doing so would mean the CIA turning her into a virtual lab-rat. They'd have to run all sorts of tests – mental and biological – to determine whether she was really the woman in Rambaldi's prophecy. It didn't seem right to force that upon a girl with such little evidence. They're basing nearly all of this off one picture that happens to resemble her. Turning her over to the CIA would ruin her life."

"Agent Vaughn, I fail to see how that is relevant to the situation. As a field agent of the CIA, you have put bullets through plenty of innocent people – guards in the wrong place at the wrong time, people getting in the way of a mission – and yet I doubt you thought twice before ruining _their_ lives forever. Why the change of heart with Ms. Bristow?"

Vaughn was silent. He braced himself to be slammed in the head with the man's gun again, but fortunately it didn't happen.

"So," the man continued after a brief pause, apparently content with Vaughn's silent response to the former question, "I take it the plan is to get as many answers out of her about the Rambaldi prophecy voluntarily, and then turn her over to the CIA?"

"Sydney will be able to confirm or deny certain aspects of the prophecy on her own without being tested. If I can get her to reveal that information – of course without her knowing the reason I'm asking the questions – perhaps we can use it to prove her innocence. We may never need to bring her in."

"And you've sanctioned this with your department head?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now listen to me. You must never meet with Sydney in private."

"What?" Vaughn asked angrily. He was beginning to be pretty irritated with this man, whoever he was.

"Your meetings must never appear secretive. If SD-6 learns that Sydney is meeting with you privately, they will suspect that she is a double agent, and will not hesitate to kill her. You must not go to her apartment again."

"What? Why not? You just said SD-6 cameras outside Sydney's apartment have footage of me going there the other night. Clearly it's not private."

"Sydney doesn't know about those cameras. She has a device in her apartment that she believes blocks the signals from any spying devices in a 25 yard radius. SD-6 manufactured a camera that would not be disabled by the device. So as far as Sydney is concerned, her apartment is a private, secretive meeting place, and therefore you must never go there again."

Vaughn began to protest, but in a flash the man was gone from the car. He looked around the parking garage, but there was no sign of him. Vaughn sighed and began to dial Sydney's cell phone number. He'd have to think of a reason to explain why he wasn't picking her and Will up for the game anymore.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of Sydney/Vaughn interaction in this chapter. Therre will be plenty (I think) in the next update, which should happen shortly. Cheers!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Scary-girly: Sorry to confuse you! Here's a brief update on where the story stands right now. Basically, the CIA is in possession of the Rambaldi prophecy that says Sydney will render utter desolation unto mankind or whatever (can't remember the exact wording). You know the one...it has a picture of her from like the 14th century...in season 1 (or possibly early season 2) she has to undergo all kinds of weird physical & mental tests so they can find out whether or not she's really the girl in the prophecy. Yeah, so the CIA has that, and Vaugh & Weiss have been put on a mission to find out whether Sydney really is the girl in the prophecy. Originally they were just supposed to bring her straight into custody at the CIA, but Vaughn felt bad doing that, so he convinced Kendall to instead allow him the chance to get to know Sydney, gain her trust, and get her to voluntarily give them some info about herself that might prove she's not the one in the prophecy. Meanwhile, SD-6 is suspicious of Sydney because they know she's getting friendly with Vaughn, a CIA agent. So the mystery man who attacks Vaughn in the parking garage (5 guesses as to who HE is) tells Vaughn not to meet Sydney in secret, because if SD-6 sees that Sydney's meetings with Vaughn are secretive, then they'll automatically suspect she's trying to hide something, namely that she's a double agent for the CIA, which, at this point, she isn't, because she thinks SD-6 is the CIA. And if SD-6 thinks she's a double agent, they'd have to kill her, which would be a real downer. Hope that helped.**

**Aliaschickita47: Bug killers to kill bug killers! I dont know - that would be all kinds of crazy. Thanks for reading :)**

** Everyone else out there - thanks so much for reading my story! Please review! If you hate it & think it's the absolute worst, most pathetic, sorry excuse for a fanfic that you ever read, TELL ME! Thank you.

* * *

**

**Chapter 4**

"Oh my God," Sydney exclaimed as she and Will sat down on the bleachers beside Vaughn and Eric. "What happened to your face?"

Vaughn had tried to cover up the cut he had received from the mysterious man in the parking garage that afternoon, but it was still fairly swollen.

"Oh, this little thing?" he said lightly. "It's nothing. Eric refused to give me the remote earlier today…and, uh…it got ugly."

Vaughn looked at Eric to confirm the story. For a split second, an expression of confusion spread over Eric's face, but a moment later it was replaced by the usual joking look.

"Yeah, but do you see any scratches on me?" Eric asked boastfully. "Not-a-one! I keep telling him, _don't mess with the Weiss_. But he won't listen. I had to teach him a lesson."

Sydney laughed, but Eric's momentary confusion had not escaped her. Clearly Vaughn was hiding something, but what? Maybe he'd had an embarrassing accident – he could have fallen down and slammed his head onto the corner of a counter. No, that wasn't it. Sydney had seen the kind of mark Vaughn had on his face on her own face too many times. Those kinds of marks didn't come from sharp corners. They also didn't come from playful fights over the remote controller with your roommate. They came from being smacked over the head with a metal object. A gun. What if Vaughn didn't really work for a bank? After all, banks _were_ popular cover jobs for spies…

_Shut up! _screamed the ever-present voice in her head. _You think nearly half the people you meet are spies! Stop being so paranoid! The boy has a scratch on his face, that's all_. _Can't you just allow yourself to relax and have fun, for once? _

Sydney sunk into a temporary gloom. She was only 21 years old, but she knew that in some ways her work at SD-6 had aged her exponentially. Young people were not supposed to be so cynical, so untrusting. Everyone she met, nowadays, she felt was a potential enemy, someone she might have to kill. She sighed. Vaughn noticed it.

"What's up with you?" he asked her quietly so no one would hear. "You look like someone just died."

"It's nothing," she lied. Then, picking up on a different tangent, she said, "I was thinking of my mom, actually. She used to take me ice skating. I haven't been to a rink since before she died."

Vaughn nodded understandingly. He reached over and placed his hand over hers for a brief moment. Sydney felt the warmth of it long after he had removed it.

"You must think I'm a total sap," she said, looking up at him. "Two of the three times I've hung out with you, I've ended up getting emotional about my dead mom."

"Don't say that, Sydney," Vaughn said seriously. "I know exactly how you feel, grieving for a parent that died so long ago you don't even know if your memories of them are real. You feel almost stupid being sad about it still, but you can't help it. Some hurts go too deep for healing."

"Yes," said Sydney thoughtfully. "But in some strange way, I'd rather feel this pain than nothing at all. I'm glad you understand."

"I do understand. And any time you feel sad about it and need someone to talk to – someone who will understand – well, you've got my number."

Sydney smiled. She'd never had a friend who could relate to her over the death of her mother. She was feeling foolish already for having ever doubted Michael Vaughn.

"At any rate, I've got something for you that I think might cheer you up a bit."

Sydney looked at him questioningly. Vaughn reached down underneath the bleacher and grabbed a plastic shopping bag. He handed it to Sydney. She put her hand inside curiously and pulled out a pint of coffee ice cream and a plastic spoon.

"Vaughn!" she cried, flinging her arms around him in a spontaneous hug. "How did you know to get coffee?"

"Francie told me it was your favorite," he said, laughing. He was glad her face was pressed up along side of his so she couldn't see how red he was. Sydney released him from the hug and leaned back in her seat, beaming. The 21 year old cynic was gone, for the time being, and had been replaced by a giddy, dimpled girl with a new crush, who had the entire world at her feet.

"Thank you so much," she said seriously, wiping her eyes, which had watered up a bit for some reason she couldn't tell.

"Hey, hey," said Vaughn, placing his hand over hers, and this time leaving it there for a few moments. "It's just ice cream, Syd. If I were a real gentleman I would have got you flowers or something."

"No, this is much better. After all, you can't eat flowers. Want some?" she asked, holding an ice cream-loaded spoon up to his lips. He began to protest, but she was too fast for him. She jammed the spoon into his mouth, and he laughingly attempted to swallow the ice cream, but a good portion of it ended up dripping down his chin.

* * *

"This is bad," said Weiss, as he and Vaughn drove home that night.

"What?"

"You know what."

"No, I don't," said Vaughn with irritation.

"'Francie told me it was your _favorite_,'" he said, doing a mock imitation of Vaughn giving Sydney the coffee ice cream.

"Oh, come off it," Vaughn said angrily. "The ice cream cost like two bucks. I spent twice that paying for your toilet paper last week. What's the big deal?"

"Ok, let's just forget about the whole Sydney-Bristow-is-a-potential-enemy-of-the-state-and-it's-our-job-to-bring-her-into-custody-before-she-renders-utter-desolation-unto-us-all thing for now -- "

"We don't even know if she's the girl in the prophecy!" Vaughn cut in.

"Right, right, exactly. So let's talk about the Alice side of things."

"What? What 'Alice' side of things? What the hell are you talking about."

"Can you honestly tell me that if Alice knew you took the time to buy Sydney Bristow – keeping in mind that Sydney is an incredibly hot, single woman – her favorite flavor of ice cream, for absolutely no reason, and that you two shared a teary hug afterwards, she would be completely okay with it?"

"Ok, we did _not_ share a 'teary hug'" Vaughn said heatedly, "and yes, I think she'd be perfectly fine with it, not that it's any of your business."

"Hey man, cool down. We're just having a friendly talk here, man-to-man. And since we're on the subject, let me just say one more thing. If it weren't for all that prophecy crap about Sydney being the antichrist, or whatever, I'd say totally go for it."

Vaughn looked at his friend, a grin slowly creeping over his face.

"Yeah?" he said after a few moments.

"Yeah," Weiss said, smiling. "Definitely. I mean, we never had this conversation, but Sydney is great. She's funny, cute, smart – and _sexy_…"

"Yeah, I get the point. But I'm with Alice."

"Right," said Weiss, raising his eyebrows. "Well, here we are." He unbuckled his seatbelt as Vaughn parked the car. "Does Sydney know about you two, by the way?"

Vaughn climbed out of the car, slammed the door shut, and walked inside.

"I guess not then," said Weiss to himself.

* * *

"Sydney spoon fed Vaughn! Sydney spoon fed Vaughn!" Will cried in a sing-songy voice as he and Sydney walked into her apartment.

Sydney gave him a hearty whack in the stomach with her purse, but the damage was done. Francie came running out of her bedroom.

"What? Vaughn? From the other night? Oh my god! You spoon fed him! Wait, I don't get it."

"Yeah, it was hysterical," said Will, ducking behind the counter as Sydney took another swing at him with her purse. "He got her this carton of coffee ice cream cause you told him it's her favorite, and then she was spoon feeding him all night, only he kept trying to get away, so it ended up dripping all over him, and she'd wipe it off his face with a napkin, it was the _cutest_ thing…"

"I swear to God, Will Tippin, one more word and this purse will make sure you never have a chance to procreate," Sydney said in a disturbingly serious voice.

She held the purse out threateningly, aiming it at his lower region. Will considered the predicament and quickly decided that his future children were more important to him than taunting Sydney. He slumped onto the couch in bitter defeat, but unfortunately for Sydney, Francie was not about to give the matter up.

"So you still like him, then?" Francie asked her eagerly once Will was out of earshot.

Sydney hesitated. It was not in her nature to be open about personal things, but somehow, with Francie, who she lied to every day about very serious issues, she found it almost impossible to hide matters of the heart. That girl was always the first one to notice when Sydney had had a bad day or needed a hug, just as she was the first to notice when she was on top of the world. Sydney sighed.

"I barely know him at all, Francie, so I feel dumb saying this. But he really _seems_ like the perfect guy…"

Francie threw her arms around her friend. "I'm so happy for you, Syd. You really need this."

"Well, it's not like anything's settled between us. I don't even know if he likes me. Like I said, I barely know him."

"Oh, he likes you honey," said Francie, squeezing Sydney's hand. "Anyone can see that. And I know you don't know him all that well, but for some reason, I have a really good feeling about him."

* * *

_The next day at the C.I.A._

"Agents Vaughn and Weiss, I need to see you in my office," said Kendall sternly. "Now."

Vaughn and Weiss exchanged dark looks as they followed their boss into his painfully sterile office.

"Tell me now, where do we stand on the Bristow case?"

"It's going well, sir," said Weiss deferentially.

"That's comforting, Agent Weiss. But, you see, here at the CIA, we need more detail on our cases than simply hearing that they are 'going well.' So if one of you two would be so kind as to tell me exactly _how_ well it's going with Ms. Bristow, I'd be much obliged, as I'm sure your families would be, when they hear you haven't been fired."

"We're still working on gaining her trust," said Vaughn, suppressing the urge to spit on Kendall's shiny bald head. "It's hard to gauge such matters as these with precision, but Weiss was right when he said it's going well. If things continue progressing as they are, I think we'll be able to start asking her some questions about the prophecy within a week or two without raising her suspicions."

Kendall eyed them skeptically.

"Very well," he said. "But don't waste any time. The sooner we get these results, the better. Remember, if there's any change in her behavior at all – anything that leads you to believe she suspects you're more than just two goofy college guys – you bring her in straight away. Any slip-ups and I'm transferring you both directly to the mail room, do you hear?"

* * *

Sydney, Noah, Marshall, and Sloane were gathered around a conference table at the SD-6 office.

"There has been a development with regard to the Rambaldi artifact," said Sloane. Sydney didn't know why, but something about the strange sparkle that flashed in Sloane's eyes whenever he spoke of Rambaldi made her feel a bit uneasy.

Sloane continued, "We have reason to believe that this man – " he flicked a switch so that each of their computer screens showed the photo of a middle-aged, rather shady looking Asian man, "has knowledge as to who is currently in possession of the artifact. The man's name is Young Lee, and he will be at a club in the Moncloa district of Madrid tonight at 23:00. Our objective is simple. Get him to tell us who has the artifact."

"He's just going to offer that information freely?" Sydney asked doubtingly.

"It's unlikely," Sloane replied. "Whoever purchased the artifact from Lee would probably not be overly enthusiastic at the idea of him sharing their identity with a competing firm. But, I'm sure with the help of Marshall's op-tech, you'll be able to think of something creative to get the information you need."

Sydney did not look or feel quite so confident.

"Sydney," said Sloane encouragingly, "I know you haven't had that much field experience outside your training, but I think you're ready for some new challenges, which is why I've assigned you to this mission. Your plane leaves in two hours. Noah will be your partner."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First of all, thanks so much to Alatriel97, Arodloverus, Lil Aussie Alias Chick, Claire, Scary-Girly, Samantha14, irionelissa, victoria-king, omg, Sydney, sapita, raye, and everyone else who's reviewed my story. If any of you write on here, you know how much it means to receive helpful reviews. So keep 'em coming! Secondly, Alatriel97, I have no concrete plans for putting Sark in the story yet, but I have a feeling he may make an appearance. The main man in this one (and in my heart) will always be Vaughn though. Thirdly, I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but honestly, I just became really lazy for a few weeks. But hopefully that's behind me now! Also, you should be happy, because this is the longest chapter yet! Finally, I'm a little worried that this chapter might be kind of confusing. If you find it confusing, please let me know, and I'll post a brief explanation in my next update. LEAVE ME REVIEWS! Reviews are the food of life. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 5**

"Vaughn! Hello! _Vaughn_! Michael Vaughn! Over here!" cried Francie.

A tall man with sandy brown hair gripping several shopping bags turned around at the sound of his name.

"Oh, hey Francie," he said with a genuine smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Duh, shopping. Sydney's birthday is next week, you know. It's crazy, I feel like I've known the girl forever, but I have absolutely no clue what to get her."

"So…you purchased everything in the mall?" Vaughn asked amusedly, eyeing the five or six heavily loaded shopping bags Francie had just dumped on the ground.

"No, this is all for me actually. I know!" she said in response to the surprised look on Vaughn's face. "I'm a terrible friend. I come shopping for Sydney and end up spending my entire paycheck on myself. Don't worry though, I'll find her something awesome. Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"I was just – "

"Uh, why do you have a Victoria Secret's bag?"

A look of tension spread across Vaughn's face for a moment.

"Oh my God!" Francie exclaimed. "That's not for Syd is it? Look, let me tell you a little something about Sydney. She digs you, but she's a classy gal, and buying her lingerie when you've only known her a few weeks isn't gonna go over well. Take my word," she said with a wink.

"Actually – " Vaughn started to say, but was cut off, as an attractive woman with short blonde hair had just approached them

"Oh, thank God, there you are Michael," the woman said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the lips. "It's a complete zoo here today – I thought I'd never find you. Oooh, a Victoria's Secret bag! You naughty boy!"

Vaughn was too embarrassed and guilt-ridden to say anything.

"Who's your friend?" the woman asked.

Francie opened her mouth to introduce herself, but the words wouldn't come out. She was too shocked. Vaughn had a girlfriend! Of all the insensitive bastards…after flirting so shamelessly with Sydney! Sydney had had more male-related tragedy in her young life than many people endure in a lifetime…and now _this_! It had been two years since Danny's death, and Vaughn was the first person (out of numerous potentials) that Sydney had actually allowed herself to trust, to open up to, and now, she'd have to find out that he'd had a girlfriend the whole time and never said a word about it. It was inexcusable.

"This is Francie Calfo," said Vaughn to Alice with feigned cheerfulness. "Francie, this is Alice. My girlfriend."

Alice held out her hand to shake with Francie, but Francie shook her head, muttering some incoherent apology, grabbed her bags, and ran off in the other direction.

* * *

"Thank goodness you're home!" Sydney said happily as Francie walked into the apartment, heaving the five or six bags onto the table. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you before I left." 

"You're going away again?" Francie asked with surprise.

"Yes, and I'm sooo sorry, I know we were supposed to go to that new restaurant tomorrow night, but this trip came up at the last minute – it's a bankruptcy case – I can't get out of it."

Francie didn't say anything. She was too busy thinking of how to break the news to Sydney to pay attention to her apology.

"I know, I suck. Seriously. I never thought I'd be traveling so much when I took the job at the bank, I swear…but what can I do? It pays the bills. Fran…are you ok?" Sydney asked, noticing the strange expression on her friend's face. "Are you mad at me? You have every right to be mad at me. I'd be mad at me if I were you – I mean two weeks ago I totally bailed on you for movie night, and now this…"

"No, Syd, it's not that," said Francie finally. "I understand you have to work. I'm not mad at all."

"You're the best. It sucks that they gave me such little notice though, right? I would have liked to at least say bye to Vaughn. Did I tell you we talked on the phone for like two hours last night?"

"Vaughn has a girlfriend," Francie blurted.

"What?" Sydney asked, her voice oddly flat.

"Vaughn has a girlfriend," she repeated. "I saw them both today at the mall. He introduced me to her. Syd, I'm so sorry…"

Sydney shook her head slightly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Fran, what are you talking about?"

Francie leaned over and hugged Sydney tightly. "Oh honey, I'm so, so sorry. Her name is Alice. She looked like a huge bitch, if it's any comfort."

Sydney gently detached herself from Francie's embrace.

"I just…I need to be alone for a minute, ok?" she said with a forced smile. Francie nodded understandingly as Sydney stood up and went into her room. Five minutes later she emerged, looking perfectly composed.

"Honey, are you ok?" Francie asked concernedly.

Sydney smiled. "I'm fine. I really am. It was stupid to assume that he was single. I mean what was I thinking? He's cute, really nice, and (seemingly) straight. How could he possibly be single?"

"You weren't stupid, Syd. He never mentioned he had a girlfriend."

"Well, I haven't known him very long. He must just not have remembered to mention her yet."

"Bullshit," said Francie. "It didn't come up because he has a thing for you and didn't want you to know about Alice."

"He doesn't have a thing for me," said Sydney adamantly. "Anyway, I'm not gonna be sad about it. It's not like anything happened between us – it was just a silly crush."

Francie raised her eyebrows, evidently not satisfied with Sydney's claim of indifference.

"Francie, I'm _fine_. I promise. Look, I've gotta go or I'll miss my plane. I'll see you when I get back."

She smiled convincingly, kissed Francie goodbye, and headed out the door.

* * *

"Dude, are you gonna tell me what's up, or are you just gonna continue burning a hole in the floor?" Weiss asked, as Vaughn paced furiously back and forth in their apartment. 

"The hole burning plan is working just fine," Vaughn replied.

Weiss rolled his eyes and turned back to his video game. But after five minutes, when Vaughn was still pacing, he decided to take drastic action.

"Ok man, here's the deal. You tell me what's up right now, or I'm gonna get your Aunt Trish on the phone and tell her you're going through a crisis."

Vaughn stopped in his tracks and let out a groan.

"Yeah, you know what that means…she'll be here first thing tomorrow morning with some kind of voodoo therapy to help you through it. Is that what you want?"

"I ran into Francie Calfo when I was at the mall with Alice earlier today," said Vaughn quickly. "She knows about me and Alice."

Weiss stared blankly. "So?"

"So it's only a matter of time before she tells Sydney."

"Ah, there's the rub," said Weiss. "I feel you man. I really do."

"Oh shut up."

"No, I'm serious. I mean Sydney is definitely hotter than Alice. Which, by the way, is saying something. And she's also friendlier. But then there are the obvious drawbacks…"

"This isn't helping – "

"Sydney's hot, but she's probably evil," Weiss continued, ignoring Vaughn's protests. "Also, even on the off-chance that she's not evil, she's working for a terrorist organization, which, in a way, kind of makes her evil on it's own. Although, in her defense, she thinks she's working for the good guys. But, even if we ignore both of those two rather significant points, there's something else…"

"Yeah, I know, what do you think I've stayed awake thinking about until the wee hours of the morning every single night for the last two weeks?" Vaughn asked, his voice trembling slightly. "Do you think I lie awake worrying that Sydney is the girl in the prophecy? No! I couldn't give a rat's ass about that stupid prophecy. And I don't care that she's working for SD-6. What kills me is the knowledge that I'm lying to her. If she found out that our whole relationship is a lie, a setup – and she's bound to find out eventually – she'd never forgive me."

Weiss nodded understandingly. "Yeah, that pretty much blows."

* * *

On the flight to Spain, Sydney was making an effort to be especially friendly to Noah. She could tell he was still hurt from their last conversation, even though he was trying to hide it. After they sufficiently reviewed the mission, they played a few games of chess and Sydney even let him win once. She kept up a steady flow of chatter the whole time. In addition to making Noah happy, she wanted to keep her own thoughts away from Vaughn. The fact that he had a girlfriend had been a heavy blow. She was furious with herself for having allowed herself to open up to him so much. How could she have been so stupid? While she wasn't exactly angry with Vaughn – he had as much right to a girlfriend as anyone – she felt like he had somehow betrayed her trust. If he continued pursuing a friendship with her when she returned to LA, she told herself she would gently brush him off. She knew herself pretty well, and being "just friends" with a man like Michael Vaughn was not something she could do without a strenuous effort. And between her classes and her work at SD-6, she didn't have that effort to spare. Even if she did, men who flirted shamelessly with women who were not their girlfriends weren't worth it. 

"Checkmate!" she said triumphantly as she moved her queen in front of Noah's knight.

"Shut up!" said Noah in disbelief. "You totally cheated."

"I did not!"

"You definitely did. I swear my king was two spaces over before. You must have moved him when I got up to get coffee."

"Hey, if you can't bear to lose, maybe you just shouldn't bother playing me anymore," said Sydney with a grin.

A week ago such a saucy statement combined with one of Sydney's famous smiles would have compelled Noah to put his arm around her – on many occasions it had all but compelled him to kiss her on the spot – but in light of their "talk" the other day, he decided to content himself with punching her lightly on the shoulder. Sydney's smile grew and she punched him back playfully. _Here_ was the Noah she used to like. Why couldn't he always be this way? Why were boys so different when they were drunk?

_Vaughn isn't. He must have had at least five beers at the hockey game the other night, and he didn't change at all, aside from becoming more funny. But he's a bastard with a girlfriend_, she reminded herself with a sigh.

Fortunately she didn't have much time to devote to that sad train of thought, for just then the plane began its descent into the Madrid airport. As soon as they landed and made their way through customs, Sydney ducked into a restroom to change. Five minutes later she emerged wearing a spiky purple wig, an ultra-short black leather skirt, and a highly revealing hot pink nylon tank top. She had several earrings in each ear, one in her bellybutton, and one in her nose. Her lips were covered in a dark, purplish blue lip gloss and her eyelashes coated with purple mascara and lined thickly in black. But most provocative were the five inch heel black leather boots that came up to her thighs. Like nearly all the clubs SD-6 sent her to, this one was a little on the kinky side.

"Jesus Christ," Noah exclaimed as she flounced over to him. "Is that you, Syd?"

"Quién es 'Syd?' Mi llamo Esperanza Marquéz," she replied with a perfect Madridian accent.

"Mi gusta mucho Esperanza Marquéz," Noah said, gaping at her.

They hailed a taxi and were off to the club.

* * *

_Seven hours earlier…_

"What do you mean Kendall's not going to do anything about this!" Jack screamed at Vaughn. The two were meeting at the usual dingy fenced in area.

"I mean he's not going to do anything about it," Vaughn replied with a slight smirk. It always amused him a little when Jack displayed any emotion.

Jack nodded, his eyebrows hunching together. "Well then we've got to take matters into our own hands."

"Look, Jack, I'm sorry," said Vaughn. "But after you nearly put a bullet in my head last week – yes, I know it was you in the backseat of my car; I have a bug in my car that recorded the whole conversation and I did a voice analogy and yours was a match – I'm not extremely eager to risk my entire career for you."

"Would you risk it for my daughter?"

Vaughn raised his head abruptly and looked intently into Jack's eyes, trying to read his enigmatic expression.

"What does Sydney have to do with this?" he asked after a moment, making an unsuccessful attempt to hide the fear in his voice.

"Sydney is the agent SD-6 has sent to retrieve the information from Young Lee. After he tells her it is the CIA that is in possession of the Rambaldi artifact, it will only be a matter of time before she begins putting the pieces together. She'll soon discover that SD-6 has nothing to do with the CIA."

"But maybe that's a good thing," said Vaughn. "She needs to learn the truth eventually. I hate that she's working for those bastards and has no clue about it…I want to tell her the truth every time I see her."

"Then you're an idiot," Jack replied simply. "The truth would kill her at this point. Literally. Arvin Sloane is uncannily perceptive, and he already suspects her of disloyalty to SD-6 because of her friendship with you. One ill-timed hesitation on Sydney's part during a conversation, one blush, one frown, and he will know she has learned the truth. He will not hesitate to have her murdered."

Vaughn frowned. He was beginning to understand where Jack was going with all this.

"No, our best bet is for her to remain in ignorance," Jack continued. "She has enough stress in her life without having to deceive Arvin Sloane. For her own safety, she must not learn the truth. Not now."

"Then what is your plan?" Vaughn asked, though he already had a pretty good idea of what it would probably be.

"Young Lee must be eliminated," Jack said. "Before he talks to Sydney."

"So you're going to Madrid?"

"No. That's where you come in," said Jack, smiling slightly for the first time in the conversation.

"I have business here in L.A. with Sloane that I can't miss," Jack continued. "You'll need to go to Madrid and kill Young Lee yourself."

"And what makes you think I'd willingly venture out on a rogue operation – at _your_ request, of all people?" Vaughn asked angrily. Though he knew in his heart he'd do it of course.

Jack let out a bitter laugh. "Agent Vaughn, there are two reasons why I know you'll be on that plane to Madrid in 20 minutes. I won't patronize you by explaining the first one. As for the second, I hardly think it would be beneficial to the CIA for Sydney Bristow to be killed. If she dies before they have a chance to test her, they will never know whether she was the woman in the prophecy. Surely that would not reflect extremely well on you, as her case handler, would it?"

Vaughn glared at Jack, avoiding the question. But as he boarded the plane 20 minutes later, all thoughts of resentment against Jack Bristow quickly fled from his mind. He had more important matters to attend to. Like how he was going to get into that club and kill Young Lee, without being recognized by Sydney. And how he was going to break it to Alice that he was falling for someone else. He picked up his phone and began to dial her number.

* * *

_Back to the club…_

Vaughn watched through the flashing disco lights as an attractive, rather scary looking woman with purple hair and dominatrix boots made her way through the crowd, her hips swaying sexily. There was something about that woman…she exuded gallons of confidence with every step she took, each roll of her eyes as she swept past the throngs of drunk, dancing Spaniards. Vaughn was so intrigued that he forgot for a moment what he was doing there. He felt a twinge of jealousy when the woman stopped in her path and allowed a tall, built man to put his arms around her and begin grinding with her. The twinge became a full-blown pang when he realized the woman was Sydney Bristow. He was able to read Sydney's lips as she whispered something into her partner's ear.

"Any sign of Lee?" she asked him.

Noah raised his eyes significantly and directed his gaze to the back right corner of the club, where a sinister looking Asian man was sitting with several blonde, buxom women. Vaughn knew he had to act quickly. It was a matter of seconds, not minutes, before Sydney approached him and got what she needed out of him.

Vaughn made his way to the middle of the dance floor, where he was surrounded by a horde of crazy dancers. He casually reached into his jacket and whipped out a shiny black gun, which he fired three times into the heart of Young Lee. As soon as he saw that the man was dead, he fled from the club, without waiting to see Sydney's reaction. He was fairly confident that no one had noticed him. It had been a clean job…Jack would be satisfied.

But mixed with the feelings of triumph over successfully completing his mission was a twinge of sorrow. He knew Sydney well enough to know that she did not take failure lightly. She would beat herself up for weeks over this one. And Sloane would give her a hard time too, probably. Still, it was better than the alternative…

* * *

A heavy-hearted Sydney, now sporting the usual shiny brown hair and sharp business attire – stepped off the plane in L.A. and made her way with Noah through the airport. She had failed. If only she'd gotten to Lee thirty seconds sooner, she would now know who had the Rambaldi artifact. She had let her country down. 

"Syd," said Noah gently, sensing her frustration, "you've gotta let it go. There's nothing we could have done."

Sydney sighed. She was grateful to Noah for caring, but she didn't really feel like talking about the mission. She just wanted to go home and curl up in bed with _Wuthering Heights_, which she needed to finish pronto as she had to hand in a 10 page paper on it in two days. Though the story of Heathcliff and Cathy wasn't exactly uplifting, anything to take her mind off her failure in Madrid was more than welcome.

"Hey, you want to come back to my place?" Noah asked. "I'll cook you dinner…"

Sydney smiled sadly. "Thanks, Noah, but I've got a lot of homework to do. I think I'll just go home. See you tomorrow."

"Alright. Well, take care."

Noah walked off toward the parking garage. He looked back over his shoulder after taking a few steps, hoping to catch Sydney's eye one last time, but she wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were glued on something else. Noah sighed and continued on his way.

Sydney's eyes were glued on another man – one who was walking with long strides in her direction. One who looked strangely like Michael Vaughn. But what could he be doing here?

"Syd!" cried the man as he approached her, holding a bouquet of wildflowers. It was Vaughn.

"Vaughn, what are you doing here?" Sydney asked, bewildered.

"I came to meet you at the airport!" he said cheerfully, looking into her eyes. Sydney's heart flip-flopped, against her will.

"Francie told me you had to go away suddenly on a business trip for the bank. I know how grueling those can be, and it's always nice to see a friendly face at the airport when you get back. Oh, these are for you," he said, handing her the flowers.

"Vaughn, you shouldn't have done this," said Sydney, blushing.

"It's nothing, Syd. I picked them out of my sister's back yard."

"They're beautiful," she said quietly, looking up at him and smiling slightly.

Vaughn caught his breath. This woman who he'd known such a short time already had more power over him than anyone else in his life. When she looked at him with her chocolate brown eyes, everything else faded away – SD-6, the CIA, the prophecy.

"Hey, do you want to get a cup of coffee with me?" Vaughn asked after a few awkward moments.

Sydney hesitated. Yes. She did. But she must not let herself. _He has a girlfriend_.

"It would really mean a lot if you did," Vaughn said sincerely. "I just broke up with my girlfriend and I'd rather not be alone right now."

Sydney smiled radiantly. The voice in her head told her it was rude to smile so brightly at a man who just told her he'd broken up with his girlfriend – he was probably feeling a lot of pain right now – but she couldn't help it.

"I'd like that," she said.

* * *

**A/N: Alatriel97 - just read your review, should it have been "gusta" instead of "gusto"? i'm such a moron...i haven't had a spanish class in 3 years so i guess i'm pretty rusty. was that the only problem with the spanish? well, i've changed it to gusta. i hope that's right. i'm too lazy to look it up though.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks for the reviewwwwwws...and since I have a bit of time on my hands, I'm going to respond to some of them individually. **

**Twinnie & Alatriel97 - sorry about my spanish suckage. i'm pretty mortified about that. i used to be damn good at spanish, but like i said, its been about 3 years since i took a class in it. i should just off myself. **

**Meighan - i hear ya about dragging it out more with syd & vaughn. i wish i had the willpower to do it. i hadnt really planned on their feelings for each other developing so quickly, but ahhh what can you do! i love them! they have to love each other! **

**me - i'm glad you've enjoyed my story so far. do you think you could be a little more specific about your criticism of vaughn and jack's dialogue? do the characters just not sound like themselves in that section, or do you think they wouldn't really talk to each other that way, or is the whole scene just kind of awkward and out of place? thanks : )**

** Thanks also to timeisonyourside, irionelissa, dandan, and everyone else who's read and/or reviewed my story. **

**One more tiny thing, then I'll shut up, I promise. I just have to say, I'm pretty excited about this chapter. It's kinda juicy. But I'm also nervous about your reactions. Please be brutally honest with me. If you think it's too sappy or fluffy at parts, let me know. Thankssss!**

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**Chapter 6**

"Syd," said Vaughn as they sat at a small table in one of the local coffee shops, sipping on their beverages, "I need to say something, just so it's out there. Ok?"

Sydney nodded nervously, encouraging him to go on. She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say, and she knew that it would be extremely awkward for them both.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Alice. It was really inconsiderate. I – "

"Vaughn, stop," said Sydney, cutting him off. "You don't have to apologize. I mean we hardly knew each other…you don't have to tell me every detail of your life."

Vaughn placed his hand over hers without even realizing he had done it. She looked up at him, slightly startled, but made no effort to move her hand.

"It was wrong of me not to mention it. We were very honest with each other about other things…I know it must have been hard for you to tell me about your mother's death. It's hard for me to talk about my dad all these years later…I don't just open up about that to anyone. The truth is, Sydney, I didn't tell you because…"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Sydney interrupted. She didn't want him to think she was some kind of psychopath woman that would demand an explanation for everything he did. In fact, she was feeling quite amazed at herself. Thirty minutes ago she was determined to end her friendship with Vaughn forever because he had concealed his relationship with Alice from her. But now she couldn't care less about all that.

"No, I want to explain myself. Here, look at this," he said, taking his watch off and placing it in her hand.

"It's broken…"

She looked up at him confusedly. Was he asking her to fix his watch? Not that she wouldn't be glad to help him…but if that's all he wanted from her, it would be a disappointingly unromantic turn of events.

"Yes. It was my dad's. He wore it for years…said it kept perfect time."

"You should take it somewhere to get it fixed," said Sydney. "I'm sure your dad would want that."

Vaughn took a deep breath. "My father used to say you could set your heart by this watch."

"Oh…well, all the more reason to get it fixed! We certainly don't want your heart to break," said Sydney, chuckling at her own stupid joke.

"Sydney. The watch stopped the day I met you."

She stopped laughing at once, her heart thumping as understanding dawned upon her. Was he saying his heart was tied to her now? She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She knew it was her turn to say something, but the words wouldn't form themselves.

"Syd," said Vaughn after a pause, letting go of her hand. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you. I probably should have waited…"

Sydney sat there silently, staring at the floor. How was it that she had enough courage to throw herself into life-threatening situations every week, but when it came to telling someone how she felt about him, she was too cowardly to say a word?

After what seemed like hours to Vaughn, Sydney lifted her head and looked into his eyes, almost timidly at first. But as her gaze deepened, her barriers faded, and her eyes revealed a soul that was pure, womanly, and completely vulnerable. In her expression he read the truth that her lips were too scared to utter, and a flood of happiness washed over him. He was almost frightened by it.

* * *

"Shit," said Weiss. "You told her about the watch! Are you retarded?" 

"I thought I might be at first, but I think it went ok, actually," said Vaughn, still beaming, even though he had dropped Sydney off at her apartment an hour before. "I'm pretty sure she feels the same way as I do."

"She feels the same way! Hey man, that's great. Really great. But have you stopped to consider which way she's going to feel when she finds out your entire relationship is a big fat lie! That you're actually being paid to hang out with her!"

Vaughn buried his head in his arms. He had been trying all night _not_ to think about that. Leave it to Weiss to remind him.

"I don't want to rain on your parade, man, but you're only making things harder for yourself. And for Sydney. You know that, right?"

Vaughn didn't say anything. His face was still hidden behind his arms. He knew Weiss was right, though. Finally he raised his head and looked at Weiss.

"I know. I just don't know how to bury my feelings for her. I've never met anyone like her in my life, Eric…I mean you should have seen her in Madrid. She was incredible."

"I thought you said she didn't even have a chance to talk to Lee?"

"She didn't, but she would have gotten the info from him in a matter of seconds, I'm sure of it. I've never seen anyone look so confident, so sexy…but then on the other hand, she's got the whole adorable girl-next-door thing going for her. It's really something more than that though. I can't put my finger on it. God – why do I have to work for the freaking CIA, of all places?"

"I'm sorry, Michael. I really am. I don't know what to tell you," said Weiss sympathetically.

"Eric, I'm going to tell her the truth," he said resolutely.

Weiss stood up abruptly and slammed his fist on the table.

"You can't do that," he said heatedly. "You'll get us both fired if you do that."

"You don't know that…"

"Michael! I am _not_ losing my job because you developed a crush on some wench! If you tell her, I'll have to report you."

Vaughn slumped back into his seat wearily. He knew Weiss was right. And of all the dangerous missions he'd been on – many of which had come within an inch of claming his life – he thought that lying to Sydney, a woman he'd known for less than two weeks, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

Weiss sat back down too, still fuming. But after a few minutes, sympathy for the difficult situation his friend was in overcame his frustration.

"Hey," he said in a friendly voice. "It's gonna be okay. You know that right?"

Vaughn smiled weakly. He didn't know anything of the sort. But he was glad Eric wasn't mad at him.

"Not to add insult to injury or anything," said Weiss delicately, "but Kendall's gonna kill us if we go much longer without any advances on Sydney's case. Have you thought of how you're gonna start questioning her?"

Vaughn's jaw tightened. "I'm taking her out tomorrow night. Maybe we'll discuss it over a nice bottle of wine."

* * *

_Tomorrow night…_

"Francie!" cried Sydney frantically, "Get in here now and help me figure out what to wear!"

Francie obediently followed her roommate's command. It's not like she had a choice – God knows Sydney had come to her rescue in countless pre-date wardrobe catastrophes.

"Want some chips? I just made the most delicious bean dip," she said between swallows as she walked into Sydney's room.

"Are you serious? I'm gonna have a hard enough time fitting into one of these outfits as it is! What kind of 'best friend' tempts her roommate with carbs just minutes before she has a hot date? Wait, did you say bean dip?"

Francie grinned and passed Sydney the chips and dip.

"Syd, I thought he told you to dress casually?"

"He did."

"Then why do you have all these fancy clothes lying out?"

Sydney let out an exasperated sigh. "Francie, I'm not gonna look like a hobo on my first date with Michael Vaughn."

Francie raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment.

"Oh God," Sydney moaned, staring at the skirts, dresses, and tops that were scattered across her bed. "These _are _all too fancy, aren't they! Being overdressed is like the worst thing you can do – he's going to think I'm too eager! Shit. Do you think we have time to make a quick mall-run?"

"Calm down, honey," said Francie soothingly. "I'm sure there's something here. Hey, what about this one?"

She held up a simple sundress made out of a brown crinkly material.

"That dress was my mom's," said Sydney softly.

"Try it on," Francie encouraged.

Sydney slid the dress on over her shoulders and looked at herself in the mirror. Well, Francie had done it again. The dress was perfect…casual, but not at all hobo-esque. It brought out the brown in her eyes and made her skin look creamy and tan.

"Wow," said Francie.

Just then the doorbell rang.

"Oh my God, is it already 7:00?" Sydney wailed. "It is! Ahhh! I don't even have any makeup on!"

"Shhh, calm down, I'll answer the door, you go put on makeup. But not too much!" Francie cautioned. "Remember, less is more. Just a touch of lip gloss and some mascara should do it for you. You know you look better with the natural look."

Sydney thanked her and rushed into the bathroom, while Francie went to answer the door.

"Hey!" she said cheerfully as she opened it. "Come on in!"

Vaughn started to follow Francie inside, but then remembered Jack's warning. _As far as Sydney is concerned, her apartment is a private, secretive meeting place, and therefore you must never go there again. _ It was bad enough that he was standing on the doorstep. If he went inside, he could risk both Sydney's and Francie's life.

"Oh, that's alright, I'd rather just wait out here," he said lamely, leaning against the arm rail.

"Don't be retarded, Vaughn, come on inside. It could be a minute before Sydney's ready. Plus, we got a new couch since the last time you were here. Don't you want to see it?"

"Um, yes, I do, actually. But not right now."

Francie looked at him skeptically. Vaughn cursed himself for failing to think up a good cover story to explain all this beforehand.

"It's just, well…I left something in my car. Yeah. I better go get it. I'll be right back!" he said, dashing off to his car.

Francie raised her eyebrow quizzically, but decided to let him have his way. If Sydney wanted to question his odd behavior, that was one thing, but Francie knew it wasn't really her place to do so. She went inside to check on Sydney.

"You about ready?" she asked as she walked into Sydney's room.

"Just a sec," Sydney replied.

"Well hurry up! Your lover refused to wait inside for some reason…he's standing out on the staircase. Oh my God, do you think our apartment has a smell?"

"Ok, I'm ready," said Sydney, emerging from the bathroom. "No, it smells fine. Well, maybe it smells a little like bean dip right now. Anyway, how do I look?"

"Hot," said Francie. "If I was a lesbian, I'd totally do you."

"That's comforting. Ok, I'm off. Don't wait up!"

She gave Francie a quick hug and walked out the door.

* * *

"Sorry I made you wait – I lost track of the time," she said to Vaughn as soon as she was outside. But Vaughn didn't hear a word of it. He stood there gaping at her for a few moments, unable to say anything. She looked like she'd just walked out of a dream. How could it be that she had actually agreed to go on a date with him? 

"You look…beautiful," he said, recovering himself. She smiled and followed him to his car. He walked around to the passenger's side with her and opened the door for her, shutting it carefully once she was inside.

"So, where are we going?" Sydney asked as Vaughn pulled out of the apartment complex.

Vaughn looked at her sideways and chuckled nervously. "Well, I had this perfect evening planned. I was gonna make you this incredible steak dinner, which we could eat by candlelight on the balcony of my apartment."

"That sounds amazing," said Sydney.

"Yeah, it would have been. But Weiss came down with a stomach virus and has been puking all over the apartment. As you can imagine, it's not the most romantic setting."

Sydney couldn't help laughing.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well, this is L.A. after all. There are tons of excellent restaurants with chefs who could grill you a steak much better than the one you would have eaten at my place."

"Vaughn," said Sydney, brushing her hand across his arm, "I don't need a fancy dinner. Why don't we have a picnic somewhere? We could go to the beach…"

Vaughn thought for a minute. The gentleman in him felt like it was his duty to take her somewhere special…or at least make sure she ate a fine meal on their first date. But the penis-bearing part of him, which, after all, always wins out, had a different take on it.

_Hmm_, he thought. _Sydney. Me. Alone. Nighttime. Beach. _

"Yeah, the beach sounds great," he said.

An hour later the two were sitting on a blanket by the ocean, sharing a bottle of light Chianti and chowing down on pizza.

"Mmmm," said Sydney, swallowing a mouthful. "Nothing quite measures up to a good hot pizza. Not even steak."

"You haven't tried my steak yet," Vaughn said jokingly.

"You'll have to give me a rain check on that."

A rain check! Vaughn thought his stomach was about to explode with all the butterflies flying around in it. She wanted to see him again – the date was going well. It was then that he heard Weiss' voice in his head.

_Do it now! Ask her some prophecy questions! She's had half a bottle of wine, she's staring dreamily into your eyes…she won't suspect a thing. Do it!_

His lips began to form the words, but at the last moment, he stopped himself. She looked so peaceful as she sat there hugging her knees, sipping on his wine. He couldn't do it.

Without knowing what he was doing, he took one of her hands and pulled her over to him. He gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face, his heart racing as he realized their lips were only inches apart. She seemed to have had the same realization, for her eyes, which had been staring intently into his, faltered, and she looked down at the ground with a mixture of shyness and vulnerability that tore at Vaughn's heart. He wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted anything, but his conscience forbade him. He sighed and contented himself with wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer to him. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

As she curled up against him, her hand slipped and she spilled her wine all over his shirt.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I'll buy you a new shirt, I promise!"

"Shh, Syd, it's fine. It'll come out. Don't worry about it."

"No, I'm going to fix it. Hold still," said Sydney, as she began to blot the stain with a dampened napkin.

Vaughn couldn't help laughing slightly as Sydney sat there scrubbing his shirt as if the survival of the universe depended on it.

"Hold still!" she said, giggling. "It's almost out."

"Great," said Vaughn, looking down at the massive wet spot on his shirt. "Now I look like a sweaty pig."

"It's okay. I like my pigs sweaty."

Vaughn laughed, as Sydney leaned over, gently blowing on his shirt in a hopeless attempt to dry it.

"Hey! That tickles!" Vaughn yelled, collapsing onto the blanket.

"_That_ tickles!" Sydney exclaimed. "Blowing on your shirt tickles? You must be the most ticklish person alive. Oh man, you are so dead…"

She climbed on top of him, pinning him down with her legs, and began digging her knuckles into his ribs until he laughed so hard he thought he would die. At long last, after countless pleas for mercy, Sydney relented. She made a motion to climb off of him, but he applied the slightest pressure to her torso, as if to say, _You can climb off of me if you want, but I'd really like it if you stayed just where you are_. Sydney needed no further encouragement.

Her lips curved into a sweet smile as she looked down at him, and his heart melted. Without thinking of what he was doing, he reached out his hand and stroked the back of her hair, guiding her face closer to his. She closed her eyes, but just as his lips were about to brush against hers, the sound of gunfire pierced the air. Two men had appeared out of nowhere and opened fire on them.

Sydney dove in front of Vaughn to shield him from the bullets. She had no idea who those men were, but she knew the attack must have something to do with SD-6. This was all her fault…because of her involvement with SD-6, an innocent man, a man who had begun to win her heart, was going to die. All these thoughts rushed through her head as she attempted to drag Vaughn off towards the shed a few yards away. She felt a bullet puncture her shoulder, but she kept moving toward the shed, ignoring the white-hot pain.

Then something unexpected happened. With surprising force and dexterity, Vaughn got his arms around Sydney and hurled her through the air so that she landed safely behind the shed. Sydney stared, open-mouthed, as Vaughn reached in his pant pocket, pulled out a gun, and began firing at the men.

Strangely, the first thought to run through her head was _How could he have had a gun in his pocket that whole time I was tickling him, and I never noticed?_ But she didn't have time to muse over that specific point. From watching him in the last few moments, Sydney saw enough to confirm that he was not the innocent, honest man she had taken him for. He was clearly a spy, though for what agency she couldn't say. In a matter of seconds, he had disarmed both men and had them on their knees, facing him, with their hands up.

"Who do you work for?" he asked roughly.

One of the men whimpered. Vaughn smacked him over the head with his gun.

"Who the hell do you work for?"

"We work for God and country," said the other man, laughing bitterly. "Just like you."

"You're CIA?" Vaughn asked, bewildered. "No. That's impossible. Since when is it standard procedure for the CIA to attack its own agents?"

"It's not. We weren't after you. We were after _her_," said the man, indicating Sydney, who was watching the scene wide-eyed from behind the shed. "And if you had half a brain, you'd have killed her yourself, rather than flirting with her like some pathetic pimple-faced middle schooler."

That was it. Vaughn raised his gun and shot both of the men in the head, killing them instantly. Then he rushed over to Sydney, who had slumped to the ground, clutching her shoulder.

"Syd, are you alright?" he asked hoarsely.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'll tell you everything, I swear to God, but there's not time now, they'll be sending backup, you've got to come with me now…"

Sydney stood up slowly, wincing with pain. Her dress was now soaked with blood.

"What makes you think I'd go anywhere with you?" she panted, gripping her shoulder to slow the blood-flow.

"If you don't come with me right now, you're going to die," Vaughn said seriously. Sydney didn't budge. "Look," he continued, "I'll tell you this much. SD-6 is not a part of the CIA. Its part of the Alliance. You work for the very enemy you thought you were fighting. If you don't come with me right this second, both the CIA and SD-6 are going to send people to kill you."

Sydney stared at him with a look of weary repulsion. She heard the words, but they didn't register. She was in spy mode. She knew her life was in danger, and she knew she couldn't trust Michael Vaughn. If she was going to make it out of this alive, she had to depend on herself, and herself alone.

"Syd, let me look at your shoulder," said Vaughn slowly, stepping forward. Sydney reached under her dress and in one swift motion whipped out the gun that had been strapped to her thigh and pointed it at Vaughn's head.

"Get away from me," she said icily.

"Syd, don't do this, you're making a mistake…"

Sydney fired the gun three times, turned, and ran off into the night. She didn't look back.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, I think I said I would update soon, but then I went back to school, and suddenly 5 months passed and it was December and I hadn't touched this story. But I didn't forget about it! Still, leaving you with that horrible cliffhanger for all these months is unforgiveable. I wonder if any of the people who used to read this story still even look at Well whatever. I'm really terribly sorry this has taken so long. But here it is, chapter 7. I've already written a large part of chapter 8 too so it shouldn't be that long before I post it. **

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** Ok, just to bring you guys up to speed so you don't have to reread the whole story to remember what it's about, I'll give you a quick recap. However, if you've never read any of it before, I do recommend starting at the beginning. **

**Summary: Syd is a UCLA junior working for SD-6. She thinks it's the CIA. She meets Vaughn at a frat party. He claims to work for a bank. They start hanging out. She's falling for him hard (like any girl in her right mind would do...). But unbeknownst to her, Vaughn is a CIA agent whose latest mission is to ascertain whether Sydney Bristow is the woman in the Rambaldi prophecy (the one from season one with the creepy picture of Sydney that says she's gonna render utter desolation unto mankind or whatever). Originally Vaughn was supposed to kidnap her at the frat party and bring her into the CIA so they could run tests that would show if she was the woman in the prophecy. But Vaughn talked Kendall out of that and instead he's just going to gain her trust and ask her certain questions that would help them tell if she's the right woman. Vaughn really likes Syd, but he feels extremely guilty because their whole relationship, obviously, is a lie. So they go on this great date at the beach where Vaughn is going to finally start asking her prophecy questions. Just when they're about to kiss, some guys, claiming to be CIA, open fire on them and Syd gets shot in the shoulder. Vaughn fights back, and Syd can tell because of his fighting skills that he doesn't work for a bank. After killing the bad guys, he tells her that SD-6 is not part of the CIA and that they have to run because those bad guys will be sending backup. Syd doesn't trust him. **

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**End of Chapter 6:**

**"Syd, let me look at your shoulder," said Vaughn slowly, stepping forward. Sydney reached under her dress and in one swift motion whipped out the gun that had been strapped to her thigh and pointed it at Vaughn's head.**

**"Get away from me," she said icily. **

**"Syd, don't do this, you're making a mistake…"**

** Sydney fired the gun three times, turned, and ran off into the night. She didn't look back.**

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**Chapter 7**

Sydney ran for what seemed like hours. If she could just make it to the nearest SD-6 callbox, she would be fine.

_Unless Vaughn was telling the truth, unless those men who were chasing her really **were** from the CIA, unless…_

She began to feel dizzy and was having trouble thinking straight. Though she had only been working as a spy for two and a half years, she knew one thing for sure: being able to think coolly and logically was the key to survival. And in her current physical state, frantic thoughts darted through her mind in a way that was nothing close to logical. She knew that if she didn't slow down, if she didn't stop running for a minute to catch her breath, if she didn't stop the bleeding from her bullet-wound, she would soon be dead, whether SD-6, the CIA, or whoever was chasing her found her or not.

Panting, she came to a stop and slumped down into the cool sand. She was drenched in cold sweat and blood and felt unbearably hot, although she was shivering uncontrollably. She tore off a piece of her dress – her mother's dress, she reminded herself – and attempted to tie it around her wound so as to slow the bleeding. But her hands were shaking so violently and her vision was blurred by drops of sweat or tears – she couldn't tell anymore – and the hot blood was flowing freely, and she drooped her head for a moment, just a few minutes to gather strength, and then, slowly, the sound of the ocean faded, and the faint light of the moon was erased from the sky, and she was lost in utter darkness, and she forgot herself and everything else, and she was still.

* * *

She woke up hours, maybe days later, in a dimly lit room. Her shoulder was carefully bandaged and completely numb. It was propped up under a stack of pillows. Someone had been very attentive to her. After a few moments of confusion, the memory of three evenings ago, as it later turned out to be, flooded back into her consciousness. A cursory glance around the room told her she was being more or less held captive. There were two twin beds; she was lying in one, the other was unoccupied, and as she could tell by the rumpled state of it, probably only recently. The door was bolted and there was no window. If not for the light coming through the crack under the door, she wouldn't have been able to see anything at all. She lifted her head, surprised at how much effort the simple act required, and instantly an electronic bell chimed. It was from a motion detector in the room. Whoever was holding her there now knew she was awake and would probably be coming to see her any second now.

She braced herself. Whoever came through that door, she knew she had no chance in defeating them physically. Her only chance – should a fight ensue – was relying on mental acuity. Sure enough, in a few seconds, the door swung open, the light switch was flicked on, and Sydney found herself staring into the eyes of a man she had known her whole life, but who was as much a stranger to her as any random person she might meet on the streets of L.A. It was her father.

"Hello Sydney." His voice was flat, emotionless, just as she remembered. She stared back at him, open-mouthed, but silent. What could she say?

"I know how you must be feeling. I hope at least the physical pain of the ordeal has been somewhat alleviated."

Her eyebrows crinkled slightly, but still she was unable to utter a word.

"I know you must have a lot of questions, Sydney, but I don't have time to answer them now. We need to switch locations. You have to trust me. Can you do that?"

What an absurd question. She shook her head, a decided _no_. Jack looked down at her and nodded slightly.

"Sydney, understand these things. I have been caring for you here for the past three days. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it while you were unconscious. And I'm your father. I'm on your side, I promise."

He leaned over the bed, put his arms around her, and slowly pulled her up to her feet. She resisted for a moment, but she was weak and injured; her strength was no match for his. And he was her father. A part of her longed to accept the comfort he was trying to give her. So she allowed herself to be led out of the room, out of the sterile, two-room apartment, as it turned out to be, and quickly, quietly into a white van with tinted windows. Jack helped her into the back seat, where she lay down and immediately fell back asleep, unaware that she and her father were not the only occupants of the van.

* * *

"How is she?" came a hushed voice from the front passenger seat.

"She's fine. The anesthesia hasn't fully worn off and she's had a healthy dose of painkillers since the operation, so she will probably be asleep for a few hours. How are you feeling, Agent Vaughn?"

Vaughn took a deep breath. "Look, Jack – Mr. Bristow – my lack of professionalism, or whatever you want to call it, nearly cost your daughter her life. It still may. I know how that must make you feel about me. So you don't have to pretend to care about how I feel."

"Agent Vaughn, your physical health concerns me only in the sense that we have a better chance of evading the Alliance, the CIA, and the FBI – I have a better chance of protecting my daughter – if you are strong enough to aide me. Don't flatter yourself by supposing I care about your health for your own sake, or that I could possibly care enough to feign concern of that nature."

Vaughn nodded, grimacing as Jack swerved around a pothole, causing Vaughn's leg to press up against the car door.

"You wouldn't by chance have anymore of those painkillers you gave Sydney, would you?" he asked through clenched teeth as he clutched his knee.

Jack smiled. "No."

* * *

When Sydney next awoke she was lying in a very large bed in a very large, finely furnished room. Her bandages had been changed, and she felt on the whole much better than before. The purplish pink light shining through the enormous windows told her it was dusk. She sat up slowly, and as she did so, a slight moan issued forth from the opposite side of the room. She turned her head abruptly, shocked to find that she was not alone in the room. Lying in the opposite corner of the bed was none other than Michael Vaughn.

Sydney inhaled sharply and tried to decide what was the best plan of action. Seeing him there beside her in bed, in the apartment, house, or whatever it was, that her father must have taken her to, she began to fit the pieces together. Vaughn must be working with her father. That was the only reasonable conclusion to operate under. This information, however, certainly did not increase his standing in her estimation. Yes, it was true that her father and Vaughn had seemed, at least for the time, interested in prolonging her life. But who knew what their long-term goals were. Jack Bristow had never been a father to her. Why should he start now?

And as for Vaughn…her mind raced over all their frenzied encounters in the last few weeks, and for the first time since that horrible evening three nights ago, she forced herself to confront the fact that every moment of their acquaintance had been a lie. She felt nauseated. She eyed Vaughn with weary suspicion. She could cap him right there while he was sleeping. That would be easiest. Asphyxiation via bed sheets or pillow. But she knew in her heart that wasn't an option. If she hadn't been able to kill Vaughn in the heat of the moment at the beach, there was no way she could go through with it in cold blood now. She was beginning to formulate an alternative plan, when Vaughn muttered something in his sleep, coughed, flipped over onto his wounded leg, groaned, and sat up. Their eyes met.

"Sydney…"

"Don't," she said coldly, her eyes flashing. She pulled the covers off of her, stood up, and slowly made her way out of the bedroom.

* * *

She found herself in a long, narrow corridor. Priceless paintings lined the walls, dimly illuminated by individual spotlights and the faint light of the setting sun that glowed through the numerous skylights. It was a beautiful hallway, but something about it made her skin prickle. She felt extremely uneasy being there, as if her body remembered something her mind could not. Then it clicked.

_I've been here before_.

She gasped as awareness set in and began to retrace her steps to the bedroom – she had to get out of there, fast. That her father – assuming it was he who was holding her – would lead her to a place like this was unthinkable, unforgivable. It verified what she had been trying, in her dreams and her few fleeting moments of consciousness since she had seen him earlier in the day, to deny. Her father knew the truth about her. Worse, he was involved with SD-6, whoever they were. And worst of all, he was a colleague of Arvin Sloane. Why else would he have brought her to his house?

For that was where she was. She had been there once before, about a year ago, for an SD-6 dinner party. She had stumbled half-drunk into this very hallway, trying to find the bathroom, and instead found herself face to face with Arvin Sloane, the man she had secretly loathed for two years now, ever since he put out the order for Danny's murder. As she stood there now, the memory of that night – one she had forced herself to forget since it happened – how else could she show up for work every day, pretending not to hate both herself and her boss? – came back to her. The emotions she felt, the things she said and did – it was all as clear as if it had happened just yesterday.

* * *

"_Sydney, can I help you?" came the fake, friendly voice that always caused shivers to run up and down Sydney's spine._

"_I'm sorry," she said, feigning a smile, "I was just looking for the restroom…I think I may be lost. Your home is so big! It's beautiful, though," she added nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear._

_Sloane smiled in his icy manner. "Let me show you the way."_

_He put his hand on Sydney's shoulder and led her further down the corridor._

"_I'm glad I found you here," he said. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."_

"_What's that?" Sydney asked lightly._

"_I think you know."_

_She stared at him blankly._

"_It's been a year, almost to the day, since I ordered the murder of Daniel Hecht. Though I understood your resentment toward me in the beginning, I thought with time, you might grow to respect me, even feel friendly toward me, the way you did when I first recruited you. But I see that nothing could be further from the truth."_

"_Sir…"_

"_Let me finish, Sydney. The fact is, I underestimated you. I underestimated your capacity for love, and most importantly, your loyalty. That you were able to put personal issues aside and work for a man, for an agency, that would kill someone you loved, says something very important about you. At first, I thought the only reason you came back to SD-6 was because you knew your life would be forfeit if you didn't. But after seeing your work in the field, I quickly realized that fear is as foreign to your essence as is treachery."_

_He paused for a moment and smiled at her. Sydney met his gaze unflinchingly._

"_You are wondering why I'm saying these things to you. The reason is simple. I want you to know that I understand how you feel. I care about you very much…almost as if you were my own daughter. And I am so sorry about Danny, Sydney, I really am. I won't mock your intelligence by rehashing the reasoning behind my actions in that department. You know better than anyone that information about this agency must be treated like a virus. What I want you to understand now, Sydney, is that I both understand and accept your animosity toward me. I would not respect you as much as I do if you were able to forgive me."_

_Sydney blinked, trying to fight back those juvenile tears that _would_ rise to the surface, despite her attempts to keep them down. Sloane put his arm out as if to stroke her cheek, but she recoiled from his touch._

"_I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand._

"_Thank you for having me tonight, Mr. Sloane," she said, almost in a whisper. "It was so nice to finally meet your wife – please tell her I said goodbye. I will see you tomorrow."_

_She turned and made her way out of the mansion._

_

* * *

_

Walking down that same corridor now, a year later, she paused to collect her thoughts. In a moment of weakness, two years ago, Sydney had confessed to her boyfriend Danny the truth about herself, about SD-6. He was the first love of her life, and she couldn't bear to keep secrets from him. An SD-6 shrink she was ordered to see after Danny's death explained that her need to be completely one with Danny, to have perfect, unhampered understanding between them, to share anything and everything, probably resulted from her father's negligence and virtual abandonment of her. She wasn't sure she bought it, but if the shrink was right, this meant her father was partly implicated in Danny's death. Naturally her feelings toward the former were not softened by that thought.

And then there was Sloane. That cool, perfectly controlled, brilliant, fearsome, awe-inspiring man who had brought her into SD-6 and treated her like a father. She had trusted him completely, respected him, even loved him, in a way. And then he betrayed her.

After Danny's death she had taken a few weeks off. For awhile she intended to quit SD-6 and instead immerse herself once again completely in the "real" world, as she often thought of it. But what for? Without Danny, the real world had lost all its flavor. And despite her dismay at what Sloane had done in the name of the agency, she believed in her country, and she needed a purpose. So she went back. She threw herself into her training with more force and vigor than ever before. She regained Sloane's trust. And in time, she got over Danny, she learned to love again, to enjoy life, to be young.

But she would never forgive Arvin Sloane.

* * *

Sydney let out a long sigh and leaned her head back against the wall. Her shoulder was throbbing. Ignoring the pain, she took a deep breath and continued walking down the corridor. She needed to find her father. She needed to know what the hell was going on. But just as she turned the corner, she heard a cry, followed by loud crashing sound. It came from the bedroom she had shared with Vaughn. Without thinking, she ran back to the room.

Vaughn was pinned on the floor underneath what appeared to be a butler. He was struggling to get the gun out of the butler's hand, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Blood was streaming down Vaughn's neck, and Sydney knew she had to act fast. She made her way undetected across the room to where the men were fighting. Just as the butler raised the gun to Vaughn's temple, Sydney leapt onto him, wrenched the gun out of his grip, and fired three times into his forehead. The man crumpled to the floor. Sydney pushed him off of Vaughn.

"Syd," Vaughn breathed, a soft smile creeping into his features.

But Sydney was in no mood for smiles, no matter how charming Michael Vaughn's might have been, even in his current bloodied state.

"Your neck…" she said, clutching her shoulder. She could tell by the hot sticky feeling under her bandage that the fight had reopened the wound.

"It's fine – just a scratch," said Vaughn. "The bullet barely grazed me. Sloane could have allotted more time to training his butlers in marksmanship…"

"Yes. Or to training his agents in the art of seeing through the guise of a cute smile and hockey tickets."

"Sydney, I know you're angry, and I'll explain everything – there _is_ an explanation – but we don't have time now, we've got to move, there might be backup coming…"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. I don't care if there is backup. I don't care if an entire army of backup comes in here and kills both of us on the spot. I couldn't give a flying rat's ass if that happened. The fact is, I'm not moving another step until you explain everything to me. I'm through with being led blindly by you or my father or whoever took us to this abominable place. I want the truth and I want it now."

"Sydney, I want to give you the truth, honestly, but…"

"Look, _Agent_ Vaughn, I saved your sorry ass twice. The least you can do is tell me why I'm here. You could have already explained it in the time it's taken us to argue about this."

"I'd hardly call shooting me in the leg a form of salvation, but whatever…" Vaughn muttered.

"I shot the two men behind you who had just appeared out of nowhere and were about to blow our heads off. I guess you were too busy being a lying bastard sonofabitch Benedict Arnold to notice them, though, weren't you?"

"Actually, I was trying to help _you_, since clearly you were in no state to be racing off into the darkness on your own. But you shot me in the leg, making things a little bit difficult."

"Jesus Vaughn, what would you have done in my situation? I can't believe I'm actually having to justify myself to you on this. A man who has warmed his way into my heart turns out to be a highly trained spy. People who claim to work with him are trying to kill me. And what, I'm just supposed to let this man come after me? Because he claims he wants to 'help' me? I mean, _seriously_?"

Vaughn sighed. "You're right, Sydney. I'm not angry at you for shooting me. In fact I'm grateful you didn't shoot me in the head. Had I been in your position, I probably would have acted the same, though I don't know that I would have ever been able to voluntarily inflict pain on you, even if I found out everything I knew about you was a lie."

"Cut the romantic bullshit and tell me the truth. All of it."

Vaughn, seeing there was no way around it, took a deep breath. "Help me up," he said.

Sydney glowered and made no motion to help him.

"We can't talk about this here. Help me up and we'll go in the bathroom. Please?"

She rolled her eyes and reached down with her good arm to help Vaughn to his feet. She let him put his arm around her for support, and the two slowly made there way into the bathroom. Vaughn turned on the sink and Sydney started the shower. Then they sat down on the edge of the bathtub and Vaughn began the story. He started from the very beginning.

* * *

**OK...hope you enjoyed. Please leave me reviews and tell me what you liked, what you hated, and if you found any parts confusing. Sorry again for the hefty delay on this!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone...it's good to know people are actually reading this. As much as I like writing it, I don't know that I'd have the incentive to keep up with it if no one else was reading it. Lame, I know. Anyway...if you used to read the story but then forgot about it when I stopped regularly updating, check out the recap posted in chapter 7. Hope you like it : ) Expect another update most likely within a week.

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**End of Chapter 7:**

Vaughn sighed. "You're right, Sydney. I'm not angry at you for shooting me. In fact I'm grateful you didn't shoot me in the head. Had I been in your position, I probably would have acted the same, though I don't know that I would have ever been able to voluntarily inflict pain on you, even if I found out everything I knew about you was a lie."

"Cut the romantic bullshit and tell me the truth. All of it."

Vaughn, seeing there was no way around it, took a deep breath. "Help me up," he said.

Sydney glowered and made no motion to help him.

"We can't talk about this here. Help me up and we'll go in the bathroom. Please?"

She rolled her eyes and reached down with her good arm to help Vaughn to his feet. She let him put his arm around her for support, and the two slowly made there way into the bathroom. Vaughn turned on the sink and Sydney started the shower. Then they sat down on the edge of the bathtub and Vaughn began the story. He started from the very beginning.

* * *

**  
Chapter 8**

"When SD-6 recruited you during your freshman year, you were led to believe you were working for a black ops division of the CIA. That's what SD-6 tells all its under officers. But nothing could be further from the truth. As I told you the other night, SD-6 is a branch of the Alliance."

"That's impossible," Sydney said adamantly. "There's no way they could trick an entire office of highly trained agents."

"Didn't you ever wonder why you were never taken to Langley? Why even if you were on a mission that went horribly wrong, you were ordered under no circumstances to ever contact the CIA? Didn't that seem strange to you?"

Sydney crinkled her eyebrows but said nothing.

"Didn't it seem a little bit unusual that the United States government would order the execution of an innocent man just because he found out his girlfriend was an agent?"

"Wait," Sydney interrupted, "that was my fault, I knew when I told him what the risks were..."

"That wasn't your fault, Sydney. Only a man with the conniving cruelty of Arvin Sloane could convince someone as intelligent as you to believe that you were responsible for Daniel Hecht's death."

Sydney hardly noticed the tears that were swelling in her eyes. She shook her head slowly. "It's impossible."

Vaughn instinctively grabbed her hand to comfort her, but she shot him a sharp glance and he let go.

"Look, Sydney, I know this might not help at all, but your father will back me up on this. And if we make it out of this alive, I can take you to the real CIA and prove to you that I'm telling the truth."

"Tell me about my father."

Vaughn explained to Sydney that Jack Bristow was a double agent for the CIA. The tears were now streaming down her face. She made no attempt to wipe them away.

"So he knew," she said flatly. "He knew all along. And he let Sloane recruit me. How could he do that?"

"I don't know," Vaughn said quietly. He longed to put his arms around her and kiss the tears away. "Your father has never been remotely forthcoming with me – or anyone else, as far as I know – about his personal life. I never even knew he had a daughter until I was assigned as your case handler."

"Tell me about that then. Why is there a case about me. Why are people trying to kill me. Why the hell are we at Arvin Sloane's house."

Vaughn told Sydney about the prophecy, about her uncanny resemblance to the woman in the portrait who Rambaldi predicted would render the greatest power unto utter desolation. He told her about how he was initially ordered to kidnap her from the frat party at UCLA and bring her straight into CIA headquarters for testing, but how he and Weiss talked Kendall out of it, telling him they would instead try to verify whether she was the woman in the prophecy simply by getting to know her and asking her certain prophecy-related questions.

"But I couldn't do it," he said. "There were so many times when I was around you that a Rambaldi question was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't bring myself to ask it…for some reason, even though rationally I knew that our whole relationship was a lie, I was able to pretend that it wasn't. But I knew if I started asking you those questions, the charade would be over. I couldn't bear that."

"Wow, Vaughn, that must have been really hard for you," said Sydney sarcastically.

Vaughn ignored her comment and continued. "That night at the beach, I was just as confused as you when those men opened fire on us – even more so when they turned out to be CIA. After you shot me, I called Jack and he came and picked me up and then we found you a few miles down the beach. Jack explained that someone from the CIA had leaked information to the FBI about your relation to the Prophecy. Naturally the FBI freaked out. They ordered you to be killed on the spot. You see, they weren't willing to take the risk that you might not be the woman Rambaldi spoke of. When they realized how many of Rambaldi's other wild prophecies had come true over the years, they panicked. So now both the CIA and FBI are on the lookout for you. Oh, and so is SD-6."

"But this is ridiculous," Sydney cried. "All this fuss over a scrap of parchment scribbled on by some whacko from the 15th century!"

"I know. It's crazy. But you know a little about Rambaldi from your work at SD-6. His followers will stop at no length to see that his prophecies come true."

"I still don't understand why we are at Sloane's house. Especially if SD-6 is after me."

"I didn't understand myself when Jack first told me we were headed here. But it makes perfect sense. Your father always house-sits for Sloane when he is out of town. Fortunately, he left for an emergency Alliance meeting in Europe just this morning. And think about it, Syd. Sloane's house is the last place the Alliance would look to find you."

When Vaughn told her that they were sleeping in Sloane's very bed, Sydney nearly vomited. But it was all beginning to make sense. Sloane's bedroom, bathroom, and personal office were the only places in the mansion not bugged or monitored by cameras. When Sydney had wandered out of the bedroom into the hallway, the butler-dressed man had seen her through a hidden camera. He immediately went to find her. Vaughn heard him coming down the hall and coughed loudly to divert his attention from Sydney. That's when the fight between them had started.

Sydney bowed her head. She felt as if she were carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Three days ago she had been a normal – well, semi-normal – college girl with a great job at the CIA. Now she was being told that the agency she risked her life for, that her boyfriend died for, was actually a terrorist cell. And her father had known all along and never said a word. Then, lest she forget, there was also the fact that a man who lived 500 years ago made a prediction that she, Sydney Bristow, who had never fired a gun in her life until a few years ago, was going to single-handedly destroy the world. _She _didn't believe it for one second. But three of the world's most powerful agencies did, and they were willing to do whatever it took to stop her.

It was too much. Using the skills she had acquired at SD-6, Sydney did her best to compartmentalize. The raw facts of the matter at hand were all she could process at the moment. She'd have to deal with the emotional side of things later.

"That butler probably called for backup," she said quietly. "We should move."

Vaughn repressed the urge to remind her that he had pointed out that very issue just a few minutes ago.

"Your father said there's a trapdoor behind the portrait hanging over the bed. It leads to a tunnel under the mansion that empties into the bay."

"Great," Sydney said unenthusiastically.

Sydney got up and walked into the bedroom. Vaughn limped unsteadily behind her. She climbed onto the bed and unhooked the painting. Sure enough there was a small door, just wide enough a person through its frame.

"Well, thanks for everything," she said. "It's been great knowing you. Really, you've brightened my life." She turned and hoisted herself through the door.

"Wait, stop, I'm not letting you go alone," said Vaughn, ignoring her sarcasm.

"That's touching, Vaughn, but even if I wanted your company, having a cripple limping along behind me isn't going to be very helpful."

Vaughn bit his lip to keep himself from reminding her once again that he wouldn't _be_ a "cripple" if she hadn't shot him.

"Well, you don't have a choice. I'm wanted by the CIA and FBI too for abetting a criminal. And I'm not about to stand here and wait for them to arrest me."

Without waiting to hear her retort, Vaughn, standing on his good leg, climbed through the trapdoor. Sydney reached her hand out to close the door behind them. She hadn't heard the door of the bedroom open again, or the creaking of the wood floors under familiar footsteps.

* * *

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Agent Bristow," said a cold, sickeningly amused voice.

Sydney lowered her hand immediately. For there, standing in the bedroom, was Arvin Sloane. He was holding a gun to Jack Bristow's temple.

Arvin Sloane had read Sydney Bristow's book. He knew her in and out, for the most part. That was how he knew everyone. And he knew she would forfeit her own life to save her father. Even though her father had never been a real father to her. Even though she had just discovered that he knowingly allowed Arvin Sloane to recruit her to SD-6, a terrorist organization. Even though, as far as she was concerned, Jack Bristow was a heartless, calculating man who had betrayed his own daughter without thinking twice about it.

Sloane was right.

In one swift, perfectly coordinated motion, Sydney dove out of the trapdoor, ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder and tackled Sloane, knocking the gun out of his hand. She pinned him to the ground and held the gun to his temple.

"My, my," said Sloane, apparently unconcerned about the gun pointed at his head. "I've read your reports, Sydney, but I've never seen first-hand how brilliant you can be in the field. Very impressive."

Sydney released the safety on the gun.

"I don't think you really want to be doing that, Sydney," Sloane said calmly.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that I do. But thanks for your input," Sydney replied.

"The CIA and the FBI both have teams waiting outside," said Sloane matter-of-factly, as if it were an every day occurrence. "Any minute now they will have infiltrated the mansion."

"I hope they brought a big mop to clean up your soon-to-be splattered brains," Sydney muttered, ignoring the warning look her father was giving her.

Sloane smiled in his cold, unsettling way. Sydney felt the usual prickle running up her spine.

"When you reach the end of the tunnel, Sydney, there is a code you will need to enter. Otherwise you won't be able to access the wetsuits and oxygen tanks. The tunnel empties out into the bottom of the bay. Without the proper equipment, you'll drown before you ever reach the surface."

"I'm a fast swimmer," said Sydney.

"But what about Vaughn? It was smart of you to shoot him in the leg, but that injury will make it impossible for him to survive the swim. And I know it has been many years since you set eyes on your father, but I see him every week, and I can tell you, he's not as young as he used to be."

Sloane played his game flawlessly, nailing all of Sydney's weak spots. A door slammed somewhere in the house and the sounds of quickly shuffling feet echoed through the mansion.

"They're coming. Are you going to put the gun down and let me lead you through the tunnel, or will we all die here today?"

Sydney slammed the gun across Sloane's face. Blood erupted from his nose and mouth.

"Tell me what the code is right now you sonofabitch, or I swear on my mother's grave I'll blow your head off."

Sloane smiled at the irony. "It's your choice," he said, swallowing a mouthful of blood. The footsteps were getting closer.

"Sydney, just do what he says," said Jack suddenly. "You know it's strategically the best plan.'

Sydney remained motionless for a few more minutes, her eyes burning with hatred and rage. Then she lowered the gun. Sloane started to get up, but she pushed him down again.

"I'll be leading us through the tunnel," she said firmly. She sprung herself back through the trapdoor. Jack and Sloane followed suit. Jack sealed the trapdoor shut just as the door to the bedroom swung open and the air they had just been breathing was permeated with bullets.

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**review! pleeeeease! it makes my soul happy. even if you hate this story more than anything youve ever seen in your entire life, REVEW! i can handle vicious criticism. i mean i might have to stab myself in the head if one of you cyber people doesnt properly appreciate my literary brilliance (har har), but you should still tell me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. This is the final chapter of this story. When you finish it, you're probably not going to be happy about that. But don't worry. I'm writing a sequel. I already wrote the first chapter of it, and I will probably post it tomorrow. Maybe even tonight. I'm pretty psyched about it : ) **

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**End of Chapter 8:  
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Sydney slammed the gun across Sloane's face. Blood erupted from his nose and mouth.

"Tell me what the code is right now you sonofabitch, or I swear on my mother's grave I'll blow your head off."

Sloane smiled at the irony. "It's your choice," he said, swallowing a mouthful of blood. The footsteps were getting closer.

" Sydney, just do what he says," said Jack suddenly. "You know it's strategically the best plan.'

Sydney remained motionless for a few more minutes, her eyes burning with hatred and rage. Then she lowered the gun. Sloane started to get up, but she pushed him down again.

"I'll be leading us through the tunnel," she said firmly. She sprung herself back through the trapdoor. Jack and Sloane followed suit. Jack sealed the trapdoor shut just as the door to the bedroom swung open and the air they had just been breathing was permeated with bullets.

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**Chapter 9**

"Sydney, your shoulder," said Jack once they were deeply inside the tunnel. "You need new bandages and medicine."

"I'm fine."

"We should at least stop for a minute so you can rest," said Vaughn concernedly. "You're not well, Syd…your shirt sleeve is soaked in blood."

"If your leg is bothering you and you need a break, you should just say it, Vaughn," Sydney said snippily. "_I _feel great."

"My leg is fine, thank you," Vaughn muttered.

"Good," Sloane interrupted. "Then maybe we could move on. It's only a matter of time before our pursuers discover the trapdoor and come after us. I understand that some of you recently suffered injuries, but you're going to suffer a lot more than that if the CIA and FBI catch up with us."

_But I'm sure that that "suffering" will be a cake-walk compared to what your Alliance buddies will do to me when you turn me over to them_, was the thought in Sydney's head. She opened her mouth to express this opinion, which would obviously reveal to Sloane that she knew the truth about SD-6.

Jack, as if reading her thoughts, glared into her eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly. She almost went on and said it anyway, just to piss him off. But she couldn't make herself do it; ever since she was a little girl, her father's words had been law. There was a lot of water under the bridge now, but the six year old Sydney Bristow, who had both feared and worshipped her father, still existed – even if only as a shadow – somewhere inside the adult woman. She bit her tongue and continued walking.

The four of them, walking in a single-file line (the tunnel was too narrow to allow any other formation) made quite an interesting group. Sydney was the first in line. She held her head high and walked with a quick gait. If not for the fact that her shoulder was drenched in blood and that she was gripping it tightly with her other hand, no one would have known she was in substantial pain at the moment. Jack walked behind Sydney with the same deliberate, intensely focused motion he always displayed, whether he was playing putt-putt golf with his young daughter or on a mission to assassinate someone. Vaughn followed Jack. He was by far the most miserable looking of the four; his neck was covered in dry, sticky blood, and his limping grew more and more awkward and unstable as the minutes ticked by. Heading up the rear was Sloane. It was a good thing Sydney couldn't see his face, because the smug look on it would probably have provoked her to murder him on the spot.

* * *

"How long is this God-forsaken tunnel anyway?" Sydney asked breathlessly some time later. They were now crawling on their hands and knees, as the tunnel ceiling was extremely low at this point.

"We're almost there," said Sloane calmly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He could tell from the exhaustion in Sydney's voice, and from the weakly subdued groans of pain coming from Vaughn, that his plan would not fail. Jack, too, with a slightly nervous look at his daughter, who had slowed down significantly and was literally shaking with fatigue, knew that at least this part of the plan would work.

If Sydney had been more alert, she would have noticed Sloane pause for a moment to flick a small switch on the floor of the tunnel. She would have heard the sound of rushing water echoing through the narrow passageway. She would have had time to react as her father and Sloane suddenly opened a hidden door on the side of the tunnel and ducked through it, closing it before she or Vaughn had a chance to pursue them.

Vaughn might have been able to warn her, or at least to help push her through the door before her father and Sloane escaped, even if it meant sacrificing himself. But he had lost a lot of blood, both from his neck and the wound on his knee, which, inevitably, had opened up again, first during his fight with the butler, and then during their trek through the tunnel. He was as bad off as Sydney.

So the two wounded spies were completely helpless when they saw the flood of water racing towards them. Sydney sucked in her breath, reached out her hand and clutched Vaughn's, and surrendered to the water.

* * *

"Do you think it will work?" Jack asked. He and Sloane were sitting in a small room with two chairs, a table, and a single fluorescent light.

"I'm sure it will," Sloane replied. "When the water dumps them into the cavern, a team will be waiting to revive Sydney and take her to a laboratory. There we will determine whether she really is the Chosen One. If she is…well, I don't need to tell you what that news means for the Alliance."

"And what about Vaughn?"

Sloane peered into Jack's eyes, his own face completely void of expression.

"What about him?"

* * *

The next sound Sydney heard was her own violent coughing, as what seemed like gallons of water poured out of her mouth and nose.

_Vaughn_.

That was the first thought to run through her head. She opened her eyes and he was bending over her, pressing down on her chest, performing CPR.

When he realized she was conscious, he collapsed on top of her and wrapped his arms almost fiercely around her, as his voice expressed incoherent sounds of relief.

Sydney sat up slowly and confusedly and gently pushed Vaughn off of her.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"I've been doing CPR on you for about three minutes. Syd…I thought you were dead…"

"I must have lost consciousness in the flood. God, where are we?" she asked, looking around. They were in some kind of cavern. The only light was coming from the green glow of Vaughn's watch. They were sitting in about three inches of grimy water.

"Hell if I know," Vaughn replied. "This is where the river dumped us."

"Oh my God," Sydney cried, as her thoughts became more clear. "My father…Sloane. They ducked out just before this happened. They're probably coming for us…Vaughn, we've got to find a way out of here!"

But they didn't have time to think of anything, for at that moment, there was a loud creaking noise from the ceiling, and suddenly a trap door opened revealing a rope ladder. A man began to descend. Vaughn made a move to attack him, but Sydney held her hand up, as if to stop him.

"Dad."

He stood before them, panting, and clutching his stomach. The light from the trapdoor revealed a growing bloodstain on his shirt.

"Listen to me," Jack said breathlessly. "We don't have much time. Sloane sent a team after you, but I managed to fight them off. They were going to take you, Sydney, they were going to take you to a lab, they were going to…" his voice trailed off and he slumped to the ground.

Sydney rushed over to him and grabbed his hand. She forgot about his betrayal, she forgot everything except that he was her father and he was bleeding to death before her eyes.

"Shh," she said soothingly. "Don't talk. We're going to take care of you."

Jack shook his head. Sweat was running down his face. "You have to listen to me. The people Sloane works for…" he broke off again.

"The Alliance?"

"It's not just the Alliance. There's another group, the Covenant…they're the ones you need to worry about, they're the ones…Sydney, they're everywhere, we have to make you disappear, I have an extraction plan drawn up…"

Sydney was shaking her head. "I won't go into hiding. I won't spend my life looking over my shoulder."

Jack held up his hand feebly to quiet her. "What they're planning to do to you…" he gasped. "You can't imagine it."

Sydney was still shaking her head. Tears were streaming down her face.

Jack turned to Vaughn. "You go with her." Vaughn nodded. Jack handed him a piece of paper. It had detailed instructions for their extraction and for their concealment.

"No!" Sydney cried. "You can't do this to me. I have a life here. I have friends…Will and Francie. And I'm studying to be a teacher. You can't take all that away from me!"

"Sydney," said Jack. His voice was calm now, but she could sense the struggle it took him to sound that way. "The Covenant will take something much more precious to you if you don't leave right now. Sydney, they're going to cut you open and take your eggs. And then they're going to brainwash you."

Sydney stared back at him, her eyes swelling in horror.

"Take her," Jack said to Vaughn. "And take care of her."

"What about you?" Vaughn asked concernedly.

"I'll be fine. Sloane will come looking for me before long. I'll tell him I tried fighting you alongside the team he sent after you, but that you overpowered me and shot me, and then escaped."

Vaughn looked skeptical.

"He'll believe me," Jack said confidently. "He always does. You need to go. Now."

Vaughn nodded. He pulled Sydney to her feet and had to literally drag her back up through the trapdoor. He followed Jack's instructions to the extraction point, where a helicopter was waiting to take them to their new home, far, far away.

Once they were inside the helicopter, Sydney lay down next to Vaughn. She put her head in his lap.

"Vaughn," she whispered after they had been flying for an hour or so.

"What?"

"I forgive you. I've thought about it, and I forgive you. You're the only person I have now, you know."

Vaughn ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll never betray you again."

"I know," she replied.

He wiped the tears from under her eyes and cradled her until she fell asleep.

* * *

**Six months later…**

_Access to secure network granted._

_AliceInWonderland47: Hey guys!_

_RestaurantChica095: OMG, this is still so creepy…_

_AliceInWonderland47: No, what's creepy is that my two best friends were secretly falling in love with each other under my very nose and never said a word about it to me._

_CowTippin4Eva: Hahaha. You're the spy. You should have figured it out on your own._

_AliceInWonderland47::Rolls eyes:_

_RestaurantChica095: I wish you could come to the wedding :(__  
_

_AliceInWonderland47: Me too, more than anything. You'll have to show me the pictures someday. I know it will be beautiful._

_CowTippin4Eva: It better be. She won't let me help plan it at all. I suggested going to Joe's Rib Shack for the reception…_

_RestaurantChica095: And he wonders why I won't let him help._

_CowTippin4Eva: What's the big deal! Everyone loves ribs!_

_AliceInWonderland47: You guys are already acting like an old married couple. I've gotta run though. I miss you so much._

_RestaurantChica095: Miss you too honey._

_CowTippin4Eva: Talk to you soon?_

_AliceInWonderland47: Definitely!_

_AliceInWonderland signed off, 16:43._

_

* * *

_

Sydney chuckled to herself and then sighed. Her face brightened into a smile though when she felt Vaughn's warm arms wrapping around her. She turned and melted into his arms as he kissed her forehead.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, her face breaking into a dimply smile. "Yeah, I am. I just wish I could go to the wedding. They're gonna be so happy…"

"You'll see them again, Syd. Your father's working hard to bring us back. We've already been cleared of all charges by the CIA and FBI, now that you climbed that silly mountain in Italy…"

"I know, I know," she said. "Vaughn, I have a confession to make."

"What?"

"I'm a horrible person."

"No you're not!" he said emphatically, kissing her. "You're the best person I've ever met. And I love you…"

She smiled. "You haven't heard my confession."

"Let's hear it then."

But before she had a chance to say anything, he began kissing her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, her ears and lips. Sydney was unable to speak…she could never concentrate on anything when Vaughn was touching her. He moved down to her neck, covering it in soft kisses, then her chest. Soon her shirt was off and they were lying on the bed, breathlessly undressing each other, until they were tangled in each others arms and legs. It was the purest kind of happiness Sydney had ever known.

After thirty minutes or so, they lay quietly under the covers, Sydney propped on top of Vaughn.

"Now, what were you going to tell me?" he asked, brushing his lips across her forehead.

Sydney bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Part of me doesn't even want to go back to America. To my old life. Part of me wants to stay here with you forever. These last few months have been like a dream."

Vaughn wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "I know, Syd, I know. I feel the same way. But you know we can't run away forever…"

Sydney nodded her head and planted a kiss on Vaughn's bare shoulder. Suddenly Vaughn sat up, bringing her up with him. He looked straight into her eyes.

"What is it?" she asked.

"There is a way we could be together forever," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Sydney looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

He reached over to the nightstand by the bed, opened the top drawer, and pulled something out of it.

"Vaughn," Sydney said nervously. "What are you doing?"

He turned around, hiding whatever it was he had retrieved from the drawer in his hand.

"I was going to wait until our trip to the beach next week to do this. I had it all planned out…I got us reservations at this amazing restaurant with a private chef…I was going to ask you then…"

"Ask me what?" she asked eagerly, her heart pounding.

"Sydney Anne Bristow," he said, pausing to kiss one of her dimples as she smiled back at him, "Will you marry me?"

He opened the small black box he had been hiding in his hand. In it was a beautiful diamond ring. Sydney threw her arms around him, tears of joy streaming down her face.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried. "A thousand times, yes."

She held out her hand and allowed him to place the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.

Hours later, they lay in bed, still tangled in each others warm embrace. Vaughn sat up.

"I need some fresh air," he said. "Want to take a walk with me?"

Sydney smiled as she examined, for the hundredth time in the last few hours, the ring on her finger. "I'd love to, but I need to finish grading these papers." She grimaced as she looked at the mound of essays sitting on the desk across the room.

Vaughn bent over and kissed her. He stood up and threw on some pants and a t-shirt.

"Ok, I'll be back in a half hour or so. I love you."

"I love you too."

She heard the door shut behind him as he went outside. She yawned and got slowly out of bed, throwing one of Vaughn's t-shirts over herself. She went over to her desk and picked up the essay on top of the pile. She had only read the first page of it when she heard the door to the house open again.

"You just can't stay away from me, can you?" she asked jokingly.

She jumped up to go meet him at the door. She didn't make it halfway. As she stepped out of the bedroom, a dart struck her in the shoulder. She fell to the ground, fighting helplessly against the overwhelming drowsiness. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was the portrait of her mother hanging over the doorway.

When Vaughn returned from his walk, all that remained of the little house he had shared for those few precious months with Sydney were a few wooden planks and a pile of ashes.

The police later reported that a gas leak had caused a massive explosion. No one inside the house would have been able to survive. The only thing they recovered from the ashes was a diamond ring.

**The End**

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**A/N: There's a sequel coming, I promise! The sooner you review, the sooner I'll post it! Please be very honest in your reviews. If something in the story doesn't make sense to you or seems awkward/unnatural, let me know! **


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